


Sure Things Go Wrong, but I'll Take My Chances

by BlackWolf105



Series: The Odds are Long [2]
Category: Life (TV), Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone's alive, F/F, Family-Dynamics, Harold is John and Shaw's adopted father and you can't convince me otherwise, Post-Season 5, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-07-28 22:54:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 31,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20071960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWolf105/pseuds/BlackWolf105
Summary: Ten months after seeing her cousin for the first time in fifteen years, Dani Reese finds herself immersed once again in Sameen's life. Except this time, it's not just her number that's up./**This is a direct sequel to Odd's Are We're Gonna Be Alright. Would recommend reading that one first.**/





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again!!  
  
Title is taken once again from the song Odds Are by Barenaked Ladies, as is the series name. As stated before, this fic is a direct sequel to Odds Are We're Gonna Be Alright (For Another Night), so if you haven't read that I recommend you do so.  
  
As a refresher, this series takes place in a universe where no one died at the end of POI season 5, but everything else stayed about the same. Dani Reese is an LAPD detective and Shaw's cousin. Any knowledge of the show Life is unnecessary, I'm just borrowing the characters.  
  
This is just the first 15k or so words of the fic. I'm still struggling with one small bit of the second half, but do expect the second chapter to come shortly.  
  
As always, comments and kudos are appreciated and welcomed. I'll try to respond to comments as best I can, but sometimes life keeps getting in the way.  
  
Sorry for the long note, and finally, please enjoy!!

** _Ten Months Ago_ **

_“Hey Sam?” Dani watched as Sameen turned back around, her face uninterestedly curious. “You remember what you said, back at the apartment? When you told me that you couldn’t care about people?” Dani felt her chest tighten with what she was about ask; she wasn’t sure if she really wanted the answer, but knew that she had to ask. “Is it that you can’t care about anyone? Or… just us?”_

_Sameen stared at her a moment before answering, her voice quiet. If Dani didn’t know any better, she might have thought her cousin sounded apologetic. “It’s not just you.” _ _Dani felt the tightness in her chest disperse, though it was quickly replaced by… something else. What, Dani couldn’t begin to name. "_ _But it might just be her.” _

_She didn’t need to ask to know who Sameen was referring to. _

_Dani looked at Samantha, leaning against the distant car, wearing a smile meant for no one but the woman in front of her._

_She nodded once._

_Her cousin nodded back, turned around, and walked away._

_Dani watched her go, watched as she greeted the woman by the car, got inside, and drove away._

_She watched until the car was nothing more than a silhouette; a dark speck against the setting sun._

_Only then, did Dani make her way towards her own car._

_Sameen never looked back._

**

** _Present Day_ **

Dani sighed, throwing the sheets upon sheets of paperwork onto the desk as she leaned back in her chair, thoroughly _done_ with everything.

She just wanted to go home and pretend like this week had never happened. Unfortunately, it didn’t appear as though _that_ was going to happen anytime soon.

Ever since hearing about Dani’s encounter with her thought-to-be-long-dead cousin – or at least a _version _of it; like there was any way that Dani was going to give them _all_ the details – her mother, Anahita, and her Aunt Parisa had been pressuring Dani to find Sameen again. A task which was proving to be far more difficult than she had originally thought.

After nearly ten months with less than no leads, Dani was starting to get sick of the questions and hopeful looks that the two older women shot her way every time they saw her, followed by disappointment (and occasionally tears) when she had nothing new to say.

It wasn’t like she wasn’t _trying_, but it seemed as though wherever she was, Sameen had gone to ground again.

Not that she ever thought that finding Sameen would be easy. After all, Dani was only an L.A. cop, and Sameen _definitely _wasn’t from around the city, so Dani wasn’t even sure what her family thought she could do.

And lucky for her, it was the weekly Reese family night, where her entire family got together, ate dinner, and pretended like they were all one big happy family.

Bullshit, that’s what it was.

_As if_ _we were one big happy family. _

She didn’t even think she could remember one of those nights that didn’t end in someone getting thrown out of the house; that person usually being herself, now that she thought about it.

And it was going to be even worse than usual tonight; Persian New Year was just around the corner, which meant that Dani’s father, Jack, would be even more of a dick than usual.

With a sigh, Dani pushed her chair back a few paces, staring blankly at the sea of white piled atop her desk.

_Is it wrong of me to hope that someone gets murdered so I can leave before dessert?_

Dani frowned as she pulled up to her mother’s house.

She had been expecting the driveway and street to be filled with cars – as it usually was on Reese family night – but instead she found them empty. The only cars littering the street were her parents’, her aunt’s, and now her own.

Putting it in park, she turned her car off, climbed out and walked up to the front door. Pushing it open, she found her parents and aunt sitting in the living room, where – judging from the look on their faces when she walked in – they had been waiting for her.

“Is everything okay?” Dani couldn’t help it, something just felt… off. Looking at the adult’s, she saw expressions of what appeared to be apprehensive joy on her mother and aunt’s faces, while her father looked to be his usual angry, disapproving self.

Her mother nodded quickly, “Yes, yes, of course.” She stood up quickly, a smile breaking out across her face. “It’s just-”

“We know where Sameen is.” Her aunt interrupted with a smile of her own.

Dani immediately shook her head in confusion. “What do you mean ‘_you know where she is_’? I told you last night, Mom, I don’t have any leads.”

“That’s because you were looking in the wrong places.” This time it was Dani’s father that spoke up, and she grit her teeth at his condescending tone. “I asked around, and a buddy of mine who recently started working at the N.Y.P.D. said that he’d seen a woman matching your description coming and going from his station a couple of times. Since it obviously couldn’t be you-”

Now it was Dani’s turn to interrupt. “Just because there’s someone that matches my description doesn’t automatically mean that it’s Sameen. It could be some unrelated third party.”

Jack nodded. “True, but you also said that when she was here, you noticed that she spoke with an east coast accent, even saying it could have been New York. So, we have your cousin who looks like you and is possibly from New York, and now there’s a woman who looks just like you in New York. I’d say chances are pretty good that this woman is your cousin.”

Dani clenched her jaw. “Alright, so assuming that this woman is in fact Sameen, what do you want to do about it?”

Her mother looked at Dani, a little confused. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Dani raised an eyebrow, her facial expression screaming _clearly not_.

Her aunt grinned at Dani; eyes wet with unshed tears of joy.

“We’re going to New York.”

**

Shaw woke up as she felt movement behind her. Opening her eyes slightly, she glanced at the clock on the bedside table, letting out a groan as she rolled over to blink up at the blurry figure moving beside her.

“Root, what the hell are you _doing_?”

She watched as Root smiled down at her before quickly pressing a kiss to her forehead – which Shaw didn’t hit her for _only_ because it six in the morning on a Saturday and she didn’t fall asleep until three and she was _tired_ goddamn it.

“Sorry sweetie, She needs me.” Shaw blinked, suddenly more awake as she pushed herself up onto her elbows.

Reaching up with one hand, she rubbed at her eyes. “We have a new number?”

Shaw felt a hand press lightly against her sternum, pushing her flat against the mattress.

“No, _I_ have a new number.” Shaw glared up at Root.

“When you have a number, I have a number. That’s how this works.” Shaw gestured vaguely around the room, too tired to figure out if she meant her and Root, their living arrangement, work partnership, or all three.

“Not this time, Sameen. It’s a relevant number; my territory. Besides, She needs you here.” Shaw sat up again as Root took the pressure off her chest. She opened her mouth to say something, but was quickly interrupted by the other woman. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing dangerous, and I won’t be gone long; a week at most.”

Shaw glared at the other woman. “I’m not _worried_.”

And she wasn’t. She was just… interested in Root’s physical well-being. After all, if she got hurt on the mission and no one was there to help her, it would be a massive blow to the whole operation. Shaw’s interest had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the fact that said woman practically lived in her apartment (but only because Root didn’t know how to take care of herself, and if Shaw wasn’t around to make sure she slept and ate properly, the other woman would probably be long dead by now) or that they were sleeping together.

Root smiled sweetly at Shaw, “Of course not.” She leaned in again and pressed a kiss to Shaw’s lips before pulling away. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to be fine, and I’ll be right back here,” she patted the bed beside Shaw with one hand while reaching out with the other to take hold of Shaw’s, “in seven days or less.”

Shaw frowned, looking down at their intertwined hands, and she felt Root’s free hand cup under her chin, pushing her face up so that they were eye to eye.

“Hey,” Root leaned forward so that their foreheads were touching, “I promise, everything is going to be fine, okay?”

Shaw closed her eyes, taking in the feel of Root’s skin pressed against hers, her breath warm against Shaw’s lips.

She nodded once, before pulling back and flopping onto the covers.

Things had been pretty good between the two of them since Samaritan’s defeat, and even better since their little trip to LA. Then, two weeks ago, Shaw had been taken hostage by the Iranian mob while trying to protect a number, and while it wasn’t a particularly _bad_ time, the incident _may_ have brought up a few memories from her time with Samaritan that Shaw would rather not have remembered. To say that Root didn’t take the incident very well was a _massive _understatement.

If she was being honest, Shaw was a little surprised that Root had left any of the men alive for John (who for some reason that Shaw still couldn’t figure out, was maintaining his day job) and Fusco to arrest.

After they had freed Shaw – who only suffered minimal damage, since it seemed the Iranian mob wasn’t particularly adept at torture – Finch had benched her for a couple of days, clearly worried about her mental state.

The sad part was, Shaw couldn’t even blame him. She was only in the Iranian’s custody for forty-eight hours, but two weeks later she still woke up covered in sweat from some nightmare or another about Samaritan.

The only thing that seemed to help – the only thing that had _ever_ helped – was Root, and Shaw wasn’t really looking forward to spending seven days without her, even if Finch had finally allowed her back in the field.

_Maybe I’ll see if I can borrow Bear._

“Oh,” Shaw looked over at Root as the other woman paused while pulling her shirt over her head, “and I’ll talk to Harry before I go, see if I can steal Bear for you.”

Shaw couldn’t smother the small smile that graced her lips.

**

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. No, I can’t believe we actually _did_ this.” Dani muttered under her breath as she stepped out of the J.F.K. Airport and into the disaster zone that was New York City.

_And I thought LA was bad_.

Dani had never been to New York, and right now she was wishing she’d kept it that way.

She knew that New York was a large city, but so was Los Angeles, and in her mind she had sort of assumed that they would have the same sort of feel.

Apparently, she’d been massively wrong.

If LA was crowded, then New York City was like being stuck into a two-room apartment with thirty five strangers. There were so many people milling around, shoving past each other, that Dani was starting to feel claustrophobic. She’d only been standing on the sidewalk for a total of thirty seconds, and already she’d had five people push past or run into her, all without a single word besides _maybe_ a sorry, thrown over their shoulder as they rushed about.

_God, I already hate this city. If Sameen does live here, how the hell does she stand it_?

“Oh my.” Dani glanced over at her mother, who had made her way to Dani’s side. She was looking around, eyes wide and probably in about as much shock as Dani was herself.

A quick glance behind her showed Jack and Parisa to be in the same spot.

“How are we supposed to find Sameen in _this_?” Her aunt sounded shocked and resigned as though she had already accepted that finding Sameen amongst the millions of people wandering the streets would be near impossible.

“Well, we can start off by going to the station and asking my buddy if he knows anything.” Dani shot her dad a look as he walked up behind the pair.

“You really think that a police officer is going to just take time out of his workday to talk to you about some person who may or may not actually be here?”

Her father shot her a scathing look. “For me, he will.”

Dani hated her father’s arrogance, and even more so because he was probably right.

Ten minutes in the police station, and Dani was ready to pick up her bags and head back home.

Her aunt and mother had been so intent on finding Sameen as quickly as possible that they hadn’t let the group check into their hotel first, choosing instead to lug their bags into a taxi and finally into the station itself.

Dani had never been gladder for her ability to pack lightly.

Her father was talking with his friend a couple of feet away, clearly trying to avoid being overheard for some unknown reason, and so Dani was stuck listening to her mother and aunt talk to one another in Farsi while she watched the other officers mill around.

“Excuse me?” Turning her head, she found herself staring into the vaguely curious – and suspicious, she noted – eyes of rather tall police detective.

He was probably about 6’2”, with short salt and pepper hair styled neatly. She also noted, rather curiously, that he was wearing an actual suit, rather than the typical detective wear of dress pants, button down, and a blazer. His voice was low, almost gravely, but steady and calm.

“Um,” Dani blinked, “Yeah, just waiting for my dad.” She jerked her head behind her towards where Jack Reese was talking.

The detective followed her gaze, nodding when he saw the two men. Looking back down at her, he held out his hand.

“Name’s Detective John Riley.” Dani took his hand, giving it a shake.

“Detective Dani Reese, L.A.P.D.” He gave her a small smile, although Dani noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He glanced behind her, before nodding tersely to someone. She turned and found herself face to face with a shorter, squatter detective, who, upon seeing her, jerked backwards in what Dani thought was surprise, spilling coffee down his front.

The cops who were around all acted as if this were perfectly normal, but Dani, her mother, and her aunt were all vaguely concerned for the man; after all, the coffee looked pretty hot.

As he struggled to clean himself up, Detective Riley spoke.

“And this,” he gestured to the man, “is my partner, Detective Lionel Fusco. Lionel, this is Detective Dani Reese, L.A.P.D.”

“L.A.P.D.?” Lionel spoke with a very heavy New York accent, Dani noted. “What the hell is she doing here in New York?”

“I haven’t asked yet.” Dani raised her eyebrow, exchanging a look with her mother and aunt; judging from the rather patronizing tone of Riley’s voice, Dani felt like it was safe to say the man didn’t particularly like his partner.

Dani could relate.

“We’re not here for anything case related,” Dani faced Detective Riley, answering the question, “We’re just looking for… someone.” Dani hesitated, for some reason not wanting to give the specifics of their search to the detectives.

Riley raised an eyebrow at her. “Someone? Well that’s not very specific, is it?”

Dani simply shrugged, meeting his eyes, almost daring him to ask.

Before he could, the other detective interrupted. “Well as fun as this is, Riley, Cocoa Puffs called me a few minutes ago; said she needed to talk.”

Riley looked up, nodding at the other man. He then looked down at Dani with a not entirely warm smile.

“It was nice meeting you, Detective. Maybe we’ll meet again.” With that, he turned and walked away, the other detective following, casting occasional glances back her way.

The way Riley said it though – _maybe we’ll meet again_ – reminded her of a similar incident, when a strange woman had walked into the police station and introduced herself to Dani, right before her life had flipped upside down.

Dani had a bad feeling that it was about to happen again.

**

“Yo, Wonder Boy, who the hell was _that_? Short-Dark-and-Deranged have a secret twin or something?” Lionel picked up his pace to match that of the taller man’s.

“Not exactly.” Lionel waited, but it seemed like Reese wasn’t up to sharing that morning.

“So who exactly _is _she?”

“Shaw’s cousin.”

“And you know this _because_…” Lionel let his voice trail off as the two detectives closed themselves into an empty interrogation room.

“Her number came up a while ago; probably ten months or so now.”

“So if she’s L.A.P.D., what the hell is she doing looking for someone in New York?” Lionel frowned. “You don’t think she’s looking for Short Stack, do you?”

Reese shrugged. “It’s the most logical option. Question is, how did she figure out Shaw lives here. Also,” he smirked slightly at Lionel, “I wouldn’t let Shaw hear you call her short.”

Lionel shrugged as well. “She hasn’t hit me yet.”

“Exactly. _Yet_.” Reese shook his head, reaching into his pocket, pulling out his cellphone and dialing Root’s number.

_“Finally, Lionel said he was getting you, like, ten minutes ago._” Root didn’t bother to greet the two men, immediately jumping into business. 

“Sorry, Root, we got a little held up.” Fusco snorted; Reese didn’t exactly sound sorry.

“_Yeah, well, we have a new number. Or should I say, numbers._”

Reese raised an eyebrow, looking to Fusco, “We have more than one?”

“_Yeah, four to be exact. I’m still running three of them, trying to get their names._”

“Only three? What about the fourth?”

“_Fourth is a repeat; it didn’t take long to figure out who it belonged too._”

Reese frowned at Lionel, an odd thought occurring to both men simultaneously.

“This repeat number,” Reese started slowly, “it doesn’t happen to be Shaw’s cousin, Dani Reese, does it?”

There was a pause from the other end of the phone, before Root spoke up, sounding confused. “_Yeah, actually it is. How did you guess?_”

“Because she’s in the station right now. Her, and three other people.”

“_What three people?_”

“Two older women and-” Lionel pushed open the interrogation room door slightly, giving him a view of the bullpen.

Shaw’s look alike and the two women were standing in approximately the same place, but while the two detectives were talking with Root, they had been joined by an older man; one Lionel had seen talking with one of the rookie officers before meeting the L.A. detective. “-an older man.”

There was some rustling sounds coming from the other end of the phone – presumably Root, shifting through papers on Finch’s desk – followed by the sound of someone typing on a keyboard.

“_The Machine just identified the remaining three numbers. Dani’s mother and father, Anahita and Jack Reese, and-_” there was a slight pause, “_Oh, Shaw is not going to be happy about this_.”

Reese frowned, sharing a look with Lionel, “What wrong? Who’s the fourth number?”

“_Her mother_, _Parisa._” The two boys exchanged another look.

Lionel let out a breath. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I have a ton of work piling up on my desk. I’ll probably be working all day.”

Reese nodded, clearing his throat. “Same here.”

Root sighed through the phone. “_Relax guys, I’ll tell her._”

Both men sighed.

“Good.” Lionel laughed, “‘cause I was _not_ looking forward to finding more paperwork to keep me busy.”

“_Wusses_.”

**

“Hey, Root?” Shaw made her way down the stairs into the subway, pausing only briefly to pat Bear on the head as he raced towards her when she pushed through the gate.

The woman in question was sitting at Finch’s desk, typing away at the computer. Looking around, Shaw couldn’t spot any of her other associates. Considering Harold was probably at his day job grading papers or some other nonsense, and the two other idiots were most likely off playing cops and robbers, she wasn’t all that surprised to find the station devoid of people other than herself and the hacker.

As Shaw started to make her way towards the desk, Root spun around in the chair, a smile gracing her features when she saw the other woman.

“Sameen, I’m so glad you could make it.” Shaw gave her a strange look.

“_You_ called _me_. Told me to come, and said I had a new number. And didn’t you say you had a new relevant number this morning?”

Root nodded. “I do, but when I got down here to talk to Harry he had to run out for a bit, something about work," she gestured vaguely with one hand as if that would help Shaw understand exactly what it was that Finch had to do, "and then the Machine told me she had a new number for the rest of you; She rescheduled my flight for nine.” 

Shaw glanced at her phone. It was half past seven now. 

“So, since Harry is at work, I decided to set this one up for you.” Root's voice trailed off as she awkwardly bit her lip, eyes everywhere but Shaw’s own.

“Root, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s _wrong_.” Shaw tilted her head to the side.

“Then why are you acting all… strange? Who’s the new number?”

Root pursed her lips, “Numbers.”

Shaw didn’t miss that _numbers_ was plural. “We have more than one?”

That did surprise her; usually the Machine only gave them more then one number if something major, but not relevant, was about to happen, but that didn’t really explain Root’s strange behavior.

“Yeah, four actually.” Shaw nodded, looking around the space, and frowning when she realized that there were no pictures of the numbers anywhere within sight.

She turned back to Root, now confused and maybe vaguely concerned. “Root.” She waited until the other woman met her eyes before continuing. “Who are the numbers?”

Root let out a sigh, slumping slightly in her chair.

Spinning back around, towards the computers, she picked up a file that had been lying, unnoticed by Shaw, on the desk. Reaching in she pulled out a photograph, holding it out towards Shaw.

“You already know this one.” She took the photograph, frowning when, for the second time, she saw a familiar face staring back at her.

“Dani’s number came up again?” Root nodded. “I mean, I guess that’s strange, but she is a cop, makes sense that she’d be in some danger right? Though you’d think that one life threatening situation in a year would be enough for most people.” Root nodded again, still contributing nothing. Shaw waited a moment, thinking that maybe now Root would say something.

She didn’t.

“So who are the other numbers?” 

Root glanced down, taking a deep breath before letting it out, looking back up and holding the whole file out to Shaw.

“See for yourself.”

Frowning, Shaw took the file from Root, flipping it open.

The first thing that greeted her were three more photographs.

The first was of a man, tall, with head of white hair. Like Dani’s photo, he was wearing a police uniform.

_Jack Reese_.

After that, were two photographs of women, each resembling one another, and consequently, Shaw herself.

Glancing down at the names scrawled across the bottom of those photographs, she felt her blood run cold.

_Anahita Reese. Parisa Shaw_.

She looked up, face blank as she looked to Root for some kind of explanation.

The other woman sighed, standing up and taking the file from her hands, throwing it behind her onto the desk.

“According to John and Lionel, they’re here.” Shaw didn’t need to ask who _they_ were. “He spoke to Dani; apparently, they’re in the city. Looking for… someone.”

Shaw grit her teeth. “I’m guessing that _someone_ is me.”

“That’s what we’re thinking.”

“Jesus.” Shaw pulled her hands from Root’s – she wasn’t even sure when Root had taken them – turning away and running one through her hair.

“Hey,” Root’s hand fell onto her shoulder as she walked up behind the Shaw, “what’s up? You didn’t act this way when we had to go to L.A. to save Dani ten months ago.”

“Pretty sure I did, Root.”

“No,” The other woman gently turned Shaw around, so that they were face to face. “you were reluctant, yes, but not… agitated. Not like this.”

Shaw took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she fixed her gaze over Root’s shoulder. “Seeing Dani is different from seeing the rest of my family.”

“You mean from seeing your mother.” Shaw felt Root’s hand run gently down the side of her face, coming to a rest against her cheek, and applying just enough pressure for Shaw to meet her eyes. Shaw didn’t bother to respond.

“Look, Sameen…” Root’s voice trailed off slightly as she hesitated, biting her bottom lip, “if you _really _don’t want to help out with this one, I’m sure Harold wouldn’t mind if you took a couple of days off, maybe take a vacation somewhere out of the city. Or you could come with me.”

A part of Shaw wanted to agree, wanted to say hell yes, and disappear; go someplace warm and sunny, and stay there until Finch called to say she could come back, or go with Root to make sure the idiot didn’t get herself killed.

But a bigger part of her new that she’d never actually do it. “Yeah, but if I did that, who would make sure that John and Fusco didn’t get themselves shot?”

Root laughed. “I suppose you have a point. But seriously, if you want out, just let me know.”

“I know.”

Root smiled again, and Shaw felt like the whole room got a little bit brighter as she did.

“Good, ‘cause we both know that I? I take care of _you_.”

Shaw gave her a half-hearted glare as she shoved Root away. “Please, we both know I can take care of myself.”

“Okay,” Root caught her hand again, drawing Shaw close, “so how about… we take care of each other?”

Shaw gave a small huff as one of Root’s hands pulled her close by the waist, the other one resting against the side of Shaw’s face again.

“Fine. We take care of each other.” Root smiled, and Shaw felt it as Root pressed their lips together.

Shaw gave it a few seconds, before pushing the other woman back by her shoulder, glaring threateningly at her. “But if anybody asks, _I_ take care of _you_, got it?”

Both women felt a thud against their legs as Bear ran into them, his eyes begging to be told what was so damn funny.

**

Dani let out a sigh as she threw her duffel bag onto the bed in her hotel room, her mother and aunt following suit.

“I cannot believe that Sameen would choose to live in a city like this.” Her mother frowned as she observed the décor. “For one, its practically freezing!”

“That’s because it’s March, Mom. On the east coast.” Dani _tried_ to keep her annoyance out of her voice, but judging from the disapproving looks the other adults gave her, she’d failed.

“Just because you don’t want to be here Dani, doesn’t mean that you have the right to be rude.”

“Sorry,” Dani muttered as she sat on the bed.

Ever since that… strange interaction at the police station that morning, she’d been on edge; she couldn’t help but feel like something bad was about to happen.

The dividing door between the women’s room and Dani’s father’s opened, revealing the man himself.

Shutting the door behind him, he let himself into the room, the two older women immediately standing and waiting eagerly for whatever information he’d discovered, while Dani simply remained where she was.

“Alright, so my friend said that Sameen’s been around the station a couple of times in the last couple of months, and that he’s also seen her around the city with two other detectives from the precinct.”

“What detectives would those be?” her mother asked.

“Detective's John Riley and Lionel Fusco.”

Dani’s mother frowned, exchanging a confused look wither aunt, while Dani shook her head.

_I knew there was something off about them_.

“Riley and Fusco?” Jack nodded. “We met them this morning.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, frowning. “So?”

“So,” this time it was her aunt who spoke up, “don’t you think they should have mentioned that they had a friend who looks almost exactly like Dani here?”

“Well, according to Jonathan, both detectives are a little odd. Possibly corrupt even.”

“Corrupt?” Now it was Dani’s turn to speak.

Jack nodded. “Apparently, Detective Fusco was questioned a few years back about being a part of an organization of corrupt cops known as H.R. There were never any formal charges, and after taking out one of organizations top lieutenants, most people have acquitted him in their own minds. However, there’s still some speculation that he was a member. And as for Riley, well, no one had even heard of him until about four years ago when he was suddenly transferred from undercover Narcotics to the Homicide Task Force.”

Dani frowned, “That’s some switch.”

“Which is exactly why some cops think that there’s something going on off the books.”

“So you’re telling me that my daughter has been seen hanging around _corrupt cops_?” Parisa sounded horrified at the prospect.

While Dani couldn’t say for certain that Riley and Fusco _weren’t_ corrupt, she _was_ sure that Sameen being in bed with a pair of dirty cops would probably be the least illegal thing she’s done. Or at least it wouldn’t be the _most_ illegal thing; that spot in Dani’s mind went to kidnapping police officers, torturing people, owning what appeared to be military grade assault weapons, and shooting civilians with said weapons.

“I said they _might_ be corrupt, Parisa, but they might not be.”

“Corrupt or not,” Dani broke in, “this doesn’t exactly help us find out where Sameen actually _is_, since it’s pretty obvious that neither detective will be all that forthcoming with that information.”

Her mother and aunt’s faces fell, apparently neither one having realized that this brought them no closer to actually _finding_ Sameen, and New York was too large to just wander around and pray.

It appeared as though even Jack didn’t have a response.

Then, there was a knocking on the door.

Sharing an apprehensive look with her father, Dani made her way towards the door. Peering through the peephole, she found herself staring at a calm looking, unfamiliar man.

She pulled it open.

“Detective Reese?” Dani nodded, frowning slightly at the man in front of her.

He was a couple of inches taller than Dani, a briefcase in one hand, the other holding the leash of a rather large dog. He was wearing a suit, a nice one if Dani wasn’t mistaken, with short brown hair and glasses adorning his face.

“Can I help you?”

He gave her a small, tight smile. “I’m afraid not. My name is Harold Finch. May I come in, Detective? I have a feeling we have much to discuss.”

“And why would you think that?”

The man reached up and straightened his glasses. “Because, Detective, believe that _you_ are in need of _my_ assistance.”

“What are you talking about?” Dani felt her aunt come up behind her.

The man looked over Dani’s shoulder at the older woman, “Parisa Shaw, I presume?” The woman stepped back slightly, shock adorning her features as Jack stepped forward, looking about as happy as Dani felt.

“I apologize, it wasn’t my intention to alarm you Mrs. Shaw,” the man quickly added, seeing the distress he appeared to have caused the woman.

“Who exactly are you, and how do you know our names?” Dani winced slightly as she heard the anger in her father voice.

“Like I said, I believe I could be of assistance to you,” the stranger’s voice gave no indication that he was at all affected by the hostility directed at him.

Dani shook her head, finally having the wherewithal to speak, “And why on earth would we need your help?” She frowned, a thought occurring to her. “And how would even know if we did?”

“The how, Detective, is that I make a point of knowing when other’s need my assistance. As for why,” The man fiddled with his glassed again, “there are a number of reasons, the first being that I believe you are looking for an associate of mine.”

“And what associate would that be?”

The man blinked, tilting his head as his arm dropped to his side. “A woman by the name of Sameen Shaw.”

**

Jack Reese paced in front of Harold, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. The Detective was leaning against the wall opposite himself, glaring intensely, while the two older women sat on the bed closest to him. 

He himself was seated in the hotel desk chair, Bear laying at his side.

As he waited for someone to break the vaguely uncomfortable silence which overtook the room, he found himself carefully observing the shorter woman, taking the time to mentally compare her to his own version. After the mission to L.A. months ago, Ms. Groves had spent quite a few minutes with him, describing in detail the differences and similarities she had noted between the two cousins, and he was rather curious to see what differences he could.

He noticed that, while looking strikingly similar, the two women seemed bountiful in differences as well. While Ms. Shaw would typically handle a situation similar to the one he found himself in with faux boredom and casual, discreet surveillance, Dani Reese appeared to prefer a much more obvious method. However, where he would have expected his own Shaw to be angry or frustrated by such a situation, the detective appeared to be more… resigned or morbidly curious then angry.

“So tell me, how exactly do you know Sameen?” Harold tore his eyes away from the woman, turning his head instead to watch Jack as he spoke.

Her father on the other hand, _was_ angry.

“We work together.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of disbelief across Detective Reese’s face, “or, more accurately, I should say, she works for me.”

“She works for _you_?” Her voice was full of disbelief as well. Harold didn’t know _exactly_ what it was that the woman thought her cousin’s job _was_, but It was evident that she didn’t quite believe that he could be involved.

“And what exactly is it that you do?” He turned back to Jack.

“My occupation is quite… _difficult_ to explain.” He nodded to the detective. “Detective Reese knows what I mean.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Dani, who continued to stare at Harold with a coldly guarded gaze, her expression strikingly familiar to the older man.

“Dani? What’s he talking about?” Anahita’s voice was colored with confusion.

“Why are you here?” Dani had apparently chosen to ignore her mother’s question.

“As I said before, Detective, because you are in need of my assistance.”

Parisa frowned at him, clearly confused by the whole conversation. “So, you’re here because you want to help us find my daughter?”

Harold let out a small sigh, thinking through his words, “While I’m afraid that that is _not _one of my primary motivations, it does happen to be a consequence of the more pressing reason to my presence.” Dani frowned, her eyebrows scrunching together.

“Then why the hell else _are _you here?” It seemed as though Jack Reese was sick of being in the dark.

“I am here, Mr. Reese, because my job is the prevention of tragedies.”

“What does that _mean_?”

“It means,” Dani answered for him, her gaze boring into Harold’s own as understanding crossed her features, “that we’re in some sort of danger.”

**

“How do we know that this man isn’t just some New York nutcase?” Dani grit her teeth as her father glared down at her.

She took a deep breath, letting out slowly as she struggled to keep her frustration in check. “We don’t, _but_,” she stressed the last word, seeing her father ready to pounce, “he says he knows Sameen, and he knows about her… job.”

“A job, which I noticed, you left _out_ of your explanation of the encounter with your cousin,” her mother chimed in.

“Well what did you want me to say? That the only reason I saw my long-lost cousin was because I was in some sort of life-threatening danger that she somehow knew about before it ever happened?” Even Dani had to admit how insane it sounded, and she was the one who had lived through it.

“So you didn’t tell us because you knew how it sounds, and yet you want us to believe this guy?”

“Just because it sounds insane, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, Mom. Besides, even if he _is_ insane, he might be our one chance to actually _find _Sameen.”

Her mother paused, seemingly thinking through her daughter’s logic. Reluctantly, she nodded, her aunt following suit.

Her father still looked unconvinced, but Dani was positive that anything short of an actual gun fight – which she was sure was going to happen at some point – would convince him.

“So what, we just… _go _with him?”

She looked over her shoulder at the man. He was still seated at the desk chair, his dog by his side as he watched them, his face unreadable.

If she was being honest, Dani wasn’t really sure _what_ to make of this Harold Finch. Yes, he said he knew Sameen, and he at least had some inkling of what it what that she did – which _Dani_ wasn’t even totally sure about – but that didn’t mean that she trusted him explicitly.

She sighed, not wanting to agree with her father but also knowing that she didn’t have much of a choice. “I don’t know.”

Her aunt chimed in, “Well, why don’t we just ask him for proof that he knows Sameen.” Everyone looked at her. She shrugged. “Then we could find out if he’s lying and whether or not we can trust him.”

Dani nodded at her aunt, appreciative of the actually _helpful_ idea, before moving towards the man.

He looked up as she approached. “So here’s the thing. I know Sameen, and I know a bit about what she does, and also that not many people probably do. So, if you say you know, you’re probably not lying, _but-_”

“You would like proof,” he interrupted. Dani raised her eyebrows in shock, her mouth closing into a thin line as she stared at the man, who, upon seeing her expression, gave her a small smile. “You and your cousin are remarkably similar, Detective.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a cellphone.

Thumbing it on, Dani watched as he pressed the return call button on one of his recent calls – although she noticed that the number was simply listed as _Unknown_.

He pressed the speaker phone button as the other end rang.

“_I swear to God, Finch, if you tell me we have another number-”_

The woman was cut off as the man spoke, “No, no, nothing of the sort, Ms. Shaw.” Dani watched her aunt’s eyes widen as she realized just who was on the other end of the phone, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

“_Then why the hell are you calling me?_”

“I’m actually calling on behalf of our current numbers.”

There was a pause from the other end before Sameen spoke again, “_You mean you’re calling_ _about__ our current numbers?_”

“I’m afraid I meant what I said, Ms. Shaw. I’m calling on their behalf.”

“_This may surprise you, Finch, but I don’t have the patience for your mind games, so just tell me why the hell you’re calling._” Dani heard the underlying anger in her cousin’s voice, even through the phone. However, the man, Finch, seemed unperturbed by it – if not vaguely endearingly annoyed.

“I am calling you to prove our acquaintanceship to your family. It appears as though they are about as trusting as yourself.”

“_The hell is that supposed to mean?_” Now she just sounded offended. “_Are you saying I ain’t trusting? ‘cause I trust a lot of people._” Harold didn’t respond. “_Hell, I’m pretty sure I trust more people than you do._”

“Last I checked Ms. Shaw, planting trackers and bugs on people is very different from trusting them.” The man sounded vaguely frustrated with his last statement.

There was another pause from the phone. “_You still haven’t found them yet, have you?_”

“That, Ms. Shaw, is beside the point.”

“_Yeah, whatever. Have you made yours? ‘Cause I have better things to do than sit around on my ass, talking to you._”

Dani followed his gaze to her mother and aunt, who were both staring, speechless, at the phone, and to her father, who looked remarkably uninterested.

“Yes, I believe I have.”

Sameen didn’t respond before hanging up.

Harold looked up at the group, his eyebrows raised as he took in their expressions.

“Are you ready to believe me now?”

Dani raised her eyebrow at the décor of the so called “safe-house” that Harold had put them in.

She had to admit, it was a pretty nice place; the penthouse apartment of a rather fancy building, with windows along one wall, multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, not to mention a fully stocked kitchen and bar – not that Dani could enjoy that last one, considering she was two years sober and not about to backslide now.

Her mother and aunt were seated on the couch, both still a little in shock from the phone call, while her father, unhappy with the whole situation, was pacing in front of the windows. Dani herself was standing still, arms crossed, watching as Harold pulled a laptop out of his bag and started to do something – what, Dani didn’t know; she wasn’t all that tech savvy, and judging from the lines of code running across the screen, he was doing something pretty advanced.

His dog was lying at his feet, tongue hanging from his mouth.

He looked up when he noticed she was watching him.

“How did you meet Sameen?” Dani didn’t bother to beat around the bush, heading straight for the questions she knew everyone was dying to ask.

He didn’t look all that surprised by her question, and Dani could feel the eyes of everyone else in the room fall on him.

“Much in the same manner I met you, Detective.”

She raised an eyebrow, “You knocked on her hotel room and told her you needed to talk?” Even she couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic.

“I helped her.” He turned back to his computer as he spoke.

“Helped her, how?”

“Much the same way I’m helping you now.”

Dani clenched her jaw; this man was speaking in nothing but riddles.

“When can we see her?” Her aunt spoke up from across the room.

Harold turned his eyes to the older woman, before glancing at his watch. “Rather shortly, I believe. I have work tomorrow, and quite a bit to do before then, so I believe Ms. Shaw will be keeping an eye on you.”

Dani frowned at him, confused, “I thought you said _this_ was your job.”

“It is.”

She couldn’t fathom how someone could work with this man; she’d only known him for a few _hours_ and she already wanted to shoot him.

“I do have a few questions for you myself, however.” Dani nearly jerked backward at the man’s words. He knocked on their hotel room door, unloaded a crazy story, told them they were in some sort of danger, dragged them across the city, and yet he had the audacity to ask _them_ questions? After not answering any of their own?

“Questions?” Parisa sounded confused, “What kind of questions could you possibly have for _us_?”

“Well to start,” the man glanced up from his laptop, “do you have any idea why someone would wish to harm you?”

Jack stared incredulously at the man. “Hold on. You said we were in danger.”

Harold nodded. “Because you are.”

“And yet you don’t know _why_?”

“My job, Mr. Reese, is to prevent bad things from happening to innocent people. Unfortunately, I rarely know _why_ things are going to happen until they do.”

“So how do you know that we’re even in danger?”

“I received intel that said as much, and my source is never wrong.”

Dani’s mother shook her head. “But if your source knows for certain that people are in danger, how come they don’t know _why_?”

“They do. I don’t.”

Dani blinked at the man, “If your source knows why people are in danger, why the hell don’t they _tell_ you?”

Harold looked seriously at her over his glasses, “Because, Detective, unchecked knowledge is a dangerous resource.”

The entire room stared blankly at the man as a confused silence fell over the small group.

A silence, which was broken only by the many locks on the door shifting, causing the befuddled inhabitants of the room to turn and face it. How this man managed to install a steel, five-inch-thick door with about twelve magnetic locks with rotating eight-digit combination locks and _not _caught the attention of the building’s other inhabitants, Dani would never know.

The door swung open, and Dani heard both her mother and aunt give identical gasps as the dog jumped to its feet and barreled towards doorway. Or, more accurately, it barreled towards the woman stepping over the threshold.

“Bear, _naar beneden_.” The dog immediately stopped jumping at the sound of her voice, instead standing in front of the woman as she dropped the duffel bag in her hand, kneeling down and enthusiastically rubbing his head. The dog let out a contented whine and proceeded to lick her hands and face.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled something out, letting the dog eat it from her palm.

Dani heard Harold make a disgruntled noise from behind her.

“I do wish you would refrain from feeding him table scraps, Ms. Shaw.”

“Come on, Finch, a little extra food never hurt anybody, ain’t that right, Bear?” The dog gave a bark, before licking the side of her face. “See, Finch? Even Bear agrees.”

Dani watched as the man limped into her view, still looking displeased. “I’m afraid that Bear would agree to anything you said, Ms. Shaw, although I’m not sure that I would consider a bark an acknowledgement of agreement.”

Sameen stood up, grabbing the duffel bag, and shot Harold a mild glare as she made her way down the steps, the heavy door closing behind her, dog at her side.

“Seriously, Finch, there’s no need to be jealous, you still have one pet that likes you best,” she snarked as she took off her jacket, throwing it onto a chair, the bag being deposited on the floor beside it.

Harold closed his eyes for a few moments. “I’m sure that Mr. Reese would prefer if you _didn’t_ refer to him as such.” Dani held back a snicker as her father jerked backwards, clearly startled, before coming to the realization that the two must be talking about someone else.

“Oh, come on. He follows you around, attacks on command, and basically lives to make you happy.” She shrugged. “Face it, Finch, he’s your bitch.”

Harold opened his mouth – quite possibly to argue farther – before choosing to let out a huge sigh instead, shaking his head and moving on. “I have Mr. Reese and the Detective looking into possible threats, and have taken a few moments myself to start the background searches. Your job is to ensure that they,” he gestured to Dani and the rest, “remain here and remain safe. So _please_ exercise restraint.”

Sameen glared at Harold, clearly offended by his implication. “I have plenty of restraint.”

He merely looked exasperatedly at her over the top of his glasses. “Ms. Shaw, need I remind you of the incident just last week where you incapacitated our number?”

She held her hands out in a _what did you expect_ sort of gesture. “He was annoying, obnoxious, and self-centered.” She dropped her hands, shrugging. “If you ask me, I did the world a favor.”

“Our job is to _protect_ people, not injure them.”

She snorted. “Pretty sure there are a lot of people in wheelchairs that would disagree with your sentiment.”

Harold didn’t seem to find it nearly as amusing. He sighed again, grabbing his briefcase and laptop. “We are most definitely going to be having another discussion about your attitude, Ms. Shaw.” She rolled her eyes. “Until then, just… don’t let anything bad happen.”

She mock saluted.

“Bear, _komen_.” The dog looked at Harold, standing up and moving a few paces away before stopping and turning back to Sameen with a whine. Harold sighed. “Very well, _blijven._” The dog barked happily, flopping down on the floor. Harold looked at Sameen, an odd expression on his face – as though he were simultaneously annoyed and sympathetic. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to keep him? Ms. Groves mentioned something about it this morning when we talked.”

Sameen nodded without really looking in the man’s direction, throwing herself onto a chair. Harold opened his mouth as though to say something more, before simply letting it fall shut.

With one last exasperated, annoyed, concerned and yet somehow fond look at the woman, Harold turned and left, leaving the family alone.

Silence filled the room as everyone just sort of sat there, the older women in shock her father just kind of glaring at Sameen, and so Dani took the time to examine her cousin.

She didn’t look all that different then she did ten months ago when Dani had seen her in LA. Her hair was maybe a little longer, and she looked a bit more tired, but other than that, she looked the same.

The same neutral expression, same blank eyes, same black clothes.

Sameen leaned back her chair, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table as she stared back at the other people in the room, her eyes making their way disinterestedly down the row.

“Hey.”

**

If she could pick anywhere in the world to be, she would choose literally _anywhere_ than that safe house. It wasn’t that Shaw _didn’t_ want to see her family, she just hated awkward silences, and considering she hadn’t spoken to or thought about anyone in her family – with the exception of Dani – in nearly fifteen years, there was going to be a _lot_ of awkward silences.

It almost made her wish that Root was there; just so that she would have someone to break the silence, not because she missed her.

She felt Dani’s disbelieving eyes on her, just as her Uncle Jack spoke up.

“Hey? You waltz in here after fifteen years, and all you have to say is _hey_?” His voice was cold, full of anger and annoyance.

Shaw turned her gaze on him. She’d never particularly liked her uncle all that much, and from the sound of it, that opinion will not have changed. “I wouldn’t stand in front of those windows.”

He blinked at her. “Excuse me?”

“You asked if all I had to say was _hey_.” She shrugged, “I also say, I wouldn’t stand in front of those windows. It’s a great view. Both for you and the sniper.”

Jack glared at her. “There is no sniper.”

“You don’t know that.” Just because it was highly _unlikely_ that there was a sniper didn’t mean that there _wasn’t_ one or that there wasn’t going to _be_ one. She also noted that although he was glaring at her, Jack moved away from the windows.

Dani looked exasperatedly at her from across the room.

“What? It’s true.” Dani rolled her eyes.

Shaw thought this was going about as well as when she first saw Dani again. Except a lot more awkward. And at least Dani didn’t seem to want to kill her.

“Sameen,” Shaw looked up at her mother, who, for the first time since Shaw had appeared, seemed like she was coming out of the shock. “you look… different.”

Shaw shrugged, stretching her hands over her head as she let out a sigh. “Well, considering it’s been fifteen years, I’m not surprised.” She didn’t miss the way that her mother winced slightly at her words.

It occurred to her that maybe she shouldn’t have so causally thrown that out there.

The room fell into silence again, everyone watching her, while she mostly looked at Dani, occasionally shifting her gaze to the others.

After about five long, awkward minutes, she stood and made her way towards the bar.

Reaching down, she pulled a bottle of scotch out of the cupboard, once again mentally thanking Finch for his expensive tastes. Grabbing a glass, she poured herself about two fingers, before turning to the rest of the room, motioning with the bottle.

“Anyone else need a drink?” Her uncle stared incredulously at her, as though he couldn’t believe she was thinking of drinking at a time like this, her mother and aunt both shook their heads with vague expressions of discomfort, while Dani let out a small sigh before following suit.

“Well, _I_ need one.” Picking up that glass, she tilted it in Bears direction, a small smile gracing her face as he barked, his tail wagging happily, before she tossed it back, reveling in the familiar burn as the alcohol slid down her throat.

She poured herself another as she moved back to the chair in the small living room, placing the once again full glass and bottle on the table as she sat down, dragging her duffel bag closer.

She saw her mother and aunt sit down across from her, Dani and Jack still standing behind the couch, as she took another drink.

“So,” She looked up at her mother as the older woman spoke, her voice hesitant, “you work with uh, Mr. Finch, was it?”

She nodded. “Yup.”

“Interesting.” Shaw could tell that her mother had more to say but was choosing to remain quiet. Out of confusion, shock, or apprehension she couldn’t tell.

Her Aunt Anahita, on the other hand, had no such issue.

“And what is it _exactly_ that you and Mr. Finch do?” Shaw looked at her aunt, expressionless as she took another sip from her glass before placing it onto the table beside the bottle.

“We work together.” Shaw could feel the anger rolling her way, emanating from her uncle.

“Yes,” It sounded as though her uncle was trying very hard to control his temper. Shaw noticed it wasn’t particularly working. “but what do you _do_?”

Shaw shrugged. “Whatever he tells me to.”

Her uncle glared at her; Shaw noted disinterestedly the lines in his jaw intensifying as his anger grew.

“But what does he tell you to do?”

“That depends on what I’m doing.” Shaw was starting to take pleasure in her uncles rapidly growing levels of annoyance.

Her aunt broke in, “Mr. Finch said something about your job being… the prevention of tragedies?” She paused for a moment, as though waiting for some sort of confirmation. Shaw didn’t react. “What does that mean?”

Shaw shrugged again. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

“Are you actually going to say something, or should I?” Everyone in the room turned to look at Dani as she spoke.

Shaw tilted her head at her cousin. “I’m not sure what you could say that I couldn’t.”

“You seem to forget that I have at least _some_ idea of what you do.” Dani matched Shaw’s expression.

“Well,” Shaw’s lips twitched as she remembered their time together ten months ago, “I guess that’s true.”

“Besides, I’m not saying you couldn’t say anything. I’m saying you won’t.”

“What?” Jack interrupted the two cousins, his voice cutting through the almost amicable atmosphere. “Why won’t you just tell us?”

Shaw shrugged, taking another sip of whiskey while Dani shook her head.

“Because she…" Dani trailed off, eyeing Shaw, who in turn simply held her gaze, waiting, "kills people.” Shaw’s eyes flickered to her cousin, mildly impressed with Dani’s gall.

Her uncle spluttered, clearly not expecting that response. “Excuse me?”

Dani’s gaze remained on Shaw as she spoke. “I mean, that’s what you do, isn’t it? Kidnap, torture and kill people?” It honestly sounded as though Dani were asking her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Shaw saw her mother’s gaze fall on her, her expression full of shock, surprise, disbelief and horror.

Shaw shrugged. “I mean, I wouldn’t say that that’s how Finch would describe it. Actually,” she tilted her head to the side, “that’s the exact _opposite_ of how he would describe it.”

**

Dani’s mouth fell open slightly as Sameen shrugged yet again, and leaned back in her chair.

If she were being honest with herself, out of everything that happened all those months ago, the fact that Sameen had come within inches of killing a man and hadn’t even broken a sweat was what had been bothering her the most. A part of her had hoped that Sameen would have denied it, saying something about how Dani must have misread the situation months ago – that she had never really intended to kill, or maim any of those men – but maybe Sameen really _didn’t_ care what happened to the people around her.

Of course, after their conversation months ago, perhaps Dani should have seen this coming.

Jack rounded on Dani. “Do you mean to tell me, she _kills_ people for a living?”

“Well I wouldn’t say that I kill people for a _living_.” He turned back to Sameen, who was looking disinterestedly at everyone. “Or even that I, what was it,” she turned her blank gaze onto Dani, “kidnap, torture and kill them for a living. Or at least not everyone. For the most part, I’m actually paid to help people; the rest of that is just the perks of the job.”

“Perks?” Parisa sounded as though she was struggling to breathe. “How on earth would you consider those _perks_?”

Sameen shrugged. “Well for one, it’s a great way to blow off steam at the end of the week.” She tilted her head to the side in mock thought, pursing her lips. “Or the beginning. Or middle. Pretty much anytime of the week.”

Dani watched as her mother shook her head in disbelief. “You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.”

Sameen raised an eyebrow before reaching into the black duffel bag at her feet, proceeding to pull out what appeared to be the pieces to a very advanced and _very _illegal sniper rifle. “Alright, I’m joking.”

Dani’s father nearly choked at the sight of the gun as Sameen slowly put it together, carefully inspecting each piece before assembling it.

The silence in the room grew almost exponentially as Sameen placed the gun on the table in front of her – next to the bottle of alcohol – and proceeded to pull a second gun from her bag; this one being a simple handgun.

Still shocking – if her aunt and mothers near silent gasps at the sight of the weapon were a sign – but Dani found that after the reveal of the M40 rifle, the 9mm was somewhat tame in comparison.

Like the first, Dani and the rest of the family watched in shocked silence as Sameen methodically pulled the gun apart, piece by piece, cleaned it, and reassembled it with the same amount of care.

Dani’s mother shook her head in disbelief. “What- I mean, how-” she cut herself off, clearly still processing the scene in front of her. Judging by the thick silence which had fallen over the room, she wasn’t the only one either.

Sameen leaned forward, placing the handgun beside the other one, before resting her elbows on her knees, one eyebrow raised. No one spoke – everyone choosing instead to stare blankly at the woman in front of them, with expressions showing that, despite the physical appearance, none of them had ever seen her before.

Everyone except for Dani, who just stared with mild exasperation and disbelief.

_Why did I think this _wasn’t_ going to end badly?_

**

Gazing around the room – at the shocked, disbelieving, angry, and downright horrified expressions on the faces of the only biological family she had – Shaw internally shrugged before picked up her glass of scotch and standing.

The minute she rose from her chair, Bear was on his feet as well, oblivious to the tension in the room as he wagged his tail and looked up at her with one of his stupid dog faces that strangely reminded her of Root.

Maybe it was the joy in his big brown eyes, or how he looked at her with the implicit trust that only dogs should have in people, or maybe it was just the fact that when he stared at her – eyes wide and excited, tongue hanging from his mouth, and lips pulled back in a little doggy grin – he just looked insane.

“_Hey, Sweetie,_” the playful lilting voice slid smoothly past the faint static of the earwig.

Speak of the devil.

Shaw turned away from her still-in-shock family, giving Bear a pat on the head as she did.

“What?” The harsh, cold tone of her voice cut through the silence of the room, and Shaw could feel her family startle behind her as she moved towards… well, nowhere, since Finch couldn’t seem to get a safe house that _wasn’t _just one giant room.

“_I was just calling to check in on you_.” Although Root’s voice was innocent and sweet, Shaw could picture the mischievous glint in her brown eyes, and the manic smile on her face with perfect clarity.

Rolling her eyes, Shaw clenched her teeth, “You don’t need to _check up _on me.”

Root ignored the bite with which Shaw spoke; it only seemed to encourage her more. “_Well I know I don’t need to, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want_ _to._”

Shaw grit her teeth at the mirth in Root’s words. “Aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know, dealing with a number right now?”

“_Yeah, but the number’s a bit… tied up at the moment._” Shaw’s eyebrows shot up.

“You _kidnapped_ the number?”

“_Well I figured the Austin Police Department wouldn’t want me to just dump a wanted terrorist on their doorstep without securing him first._”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “So what, you decided to tie him up like some sort of demented Christmas present?”

“_Complete with a bow and everything._” Shaw nearly choked on her whiskey, and through her com she could here Root laughing – not the quiet half laugh she does whenever they’re working a number, but a real laugh, the kind usually saved for playing with Bear in the station, or tormenting John or Harold.

The kind that she saves for Shaw.

Shaw pretended like hearing it didn’t cause a small flicker of warmth to spread through her body, nor that it brought the smallest of smiles to her face.

“So when you said you called to check up on me…?”

“_I also called to let you know I’d be in town a bit sooner than I’d expected – but it’ll still take a couple days. This guy went down easy, but something tells me his friends won’t._”

Shaw snorted. “Why do I get the feeling that you don’t _want_ it to be easy?”

She could _feel_ Root grinning over the com. “_Because where would the fun in that be?_”

Shaw shook her head, staring at her reflection in the glass of the window she’d found herself in front of, the lights from the city below glittering against the night sky as the thousands of cars passed by.

“_Anyway, Sweetie, I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got to run if I’m gonna make my dinner date on time._”

“You have a dinner date?”

“_Now, Sameen, there’s no need to be jealous,_” Shaw wasn’t jealous – only mildly curious as to the identity of this so called ‘date’ (what she would do with that information wasn’t really relevant), “_you’re the only semi-homicidal, so-called-terrorist I want a date with._” Shaw rolled her eyes with a huff, and in her mind, she could picture the soft half smile Root would send her way. “_I’ll be sure to shoot some bad guys for you._”

With that, the line went dead, leaving Shaw standing at the window.

“That was her, wasn’t it.” Shaw caught Dani’s gaze in the window’s reflection.

In it, she could see her mother glancing between Shaw and Dani, a look of confusion replacing the blank look of shock that had taken over.

“Who is _her_?” The words were directed at Dani, before she turned to Shaw, meeting her eyes in the clear glass. “Who were you talking to?”

Shaw turned her gaze back to the city below as Dani spoke up. “When Sameen… showed up… ten months ago, there was a woman with her. Someone named Samantha-”

“Root.”

**

Dani froze, the words half out of her mouth, more than a little surprised at Sameen’s blunt interjection.

“I’m sorry?” Jack spoke up from behind Dani, confusion and more than a little residual anger coloring his words.

Sameen turned around for the first time since she’s stood, facing the room. Her face was as blank as always, giving no trace of emotion. “Her name is Root.”

Jack laughed, and Dani though perhaps it was more out of shock than anything else, “What the hell kind of name is Root?”

Almost immediately, Dani sensed that _that_, was the _wrong_ thing to say. Nothing about Sameen’s demeanor changed, but her eyes darkened, the glare deepening as her gaze locked onto Jack’s own.

“Hers.” Dani flashed back to the last time she’d heard Sameen sound like that, her voice conversational and eyes promising murder – except that time Sameen had been standing with a gun pointed at the groin of a gang member. This time, her attention is focused on her own uncle.

The tension in the room thickened as the two glared at one another across the room, until, eventually, Jack looked away.

Dani blinked in surprise.

Not once in her life, had she ever seen her father be the first to turn away.

“Is this… Root… a friend of yours?” Dani’s mother spoke up, looking towards her niece.

Sameen switched her glare from Jack to her aunt. “No, she’s a pain in my ass.”

That response seemed to take everyone by surprise, even Dani. She’d never really bothered to ask the nature of her cousins relationship with the woman she’d showed up with, but if she was being honest, Dani had always assumed that they were… together.

Dani watched as her mother opened her mouth, as though to questions Sameen’s conviction, before ultimately deciding to say nothing.

The room once again descended into awkward silence as Sameen stood glaring at everyone, and everyone else simply sat or stood, not quite knowing what to say.

As the silence stretched on, the only person seemingly unaffected being Sameen, Dani figured they were in for a long, awkward night.

When Dani opened her eyes to sunlight streaming in through the bay windows, for a moment she thought she was back in L.A., having fallen asleep at work or maybe her partner Crew’s place after a long night looking over case files.

It was only after a few moments that she remembered she wasn’t even in California anymore.

She let out a groan as she pushed herself up from the couch, remembering her decision to take it and leave the single bed to her mother and aunt. Her father was still asleep in the armchair next to her.

Looking around, she couldn’t see Sameen anywhere.

“If you’re looking for Shaw, she left.”

Dani’s heart leapt into her throat at the unexpected male voice. Jumping to her feet and whipping around, she noticed for the first time an unfamiliar man standing in the corner by the windows.

After her heart stopped racing, and a moment’s inspection, she realized that the man wasn’t as unfamiliar as she had first thought.

“Detective Riley?” She couldn’t keep the confusion out of her voice as the man sent a small, tense smile in her direction.

“You can just call me John.”

Dani shook her head, a small part of her wondering if all of this was some kind of drug induced hallucination. “What are you doing here? And what do you mean Sameen left? Where did she _go_?”

“To answer your first question, I’m here to keep an eye on you. Shaw and I traded off around three in the morning. As for where she went,” John shrugged, “I would say she probably went to her apartment, but, knowing Shaw, she could have gone anywhere – and I really do mean _anywhere_.” He gave Dani a wry smile that held far to much fondness for someone talking about her cousin.

Dani blinked at the man.

In the armchair, her father started to come to, most likely disturbed from his sleep by their voices.

When he saw John, he reacted in much the same fashion that Dani had, except with more yelling, which ultimately woke Dani’s mother and aunt and resulted in even more chaos.

After a while, everyone calmed down enough to give Detective Riley a chance to explain his presence in the apartment.

Jack glared at the man. “So you mean to tell me that you _aren’t _a corrupt cop, but instead you work with my niece for that Finch guy.”

John raised an eyebrow briefly, which seemed to be all the acknowledgement of agreement they were going to get from the man.

“Are you even a cop?”

The man looked at Dani’s father for a long moment, before shrugging. “John Riley is.”

Dani’s mother looked confused – and also vaguely desperate. “Aren’t you John Riley?

The man shrugged. “Occasionally.”

Dani grit her teeth and resisted the urge to punch the man in the face.

Not because she had amazing self-control or some bullshit like that, but because she was pretty sure he was carrying some sort of firearm, and the last thing Dani (and the rest of her family she supposed) needed right now was a trip to the hospital.

Fortunately, before her self-control ran out, she heard the locks in the door shift right before the door swung open.

John eyes flickered above Dani’s head, and she saw a small smile grace his face for half a second before it disappeared.

“Is some of that for me?” Turning around, Dani saw Sameen standing in the doorway, in what were probably new clothes (although it was hard to tell; they looked the same as the ones she’d been wearing the day before) and holding a brown paper bag and a to-go cup of coffee.

“No.” She dropped the bag on the small coffee table – which Dani now noticed was bare of guns – and motioned to Dani and the three others in the room. “Finch made me get food for these guys. I figured you’d grab something with Fusco.”

John raised an eyebrow at her. “You always bring Root food.”

Sameen matched his expression. “And you always bring Finch his tea.”

“Well that’s because I’m – what did you say? His bitch?” Dani noticed the man’s voice had taken on a distinctly teasing tone.

Sameen narrowed her eyes at him warily. “That’s because you are.”

“Exactly, so what does that make you?”

John deftly dodged the coaster Sameen threw at him as he swiftly moved to exit the room.

“Someone who would rather not end up bleeding out in a ditch because my partner is passed out from starvation,” Sameen growled at him.

“Oh, are you finally admitting that you’re partners now?”

The door closed before Sameen could spit out another response.

**

“Oh, are you finally admitting that you’re partners now?”

Parisa watched as her daughters’ ears reddened slightly, her gaze darkening as the door quickly shut behind… whatever the man’s name was (Dani had introduced him as Detective John Riley, but after the bitch comment, she wasn’t so sure. She had thought that Mr. Finch had said something about a Mr. Reese after the comment yesterday, but trying to figure out Sameen’s work life seemed to be more difficult than finding her in the first place).

What she _was_ sure of, was that the two colleagues were talking about the same person from yesterday, who Sameen had adamantly denied was nothing more than a casual acquaintance and work associate.

_Not friends, my ass._

With a few muttered curses and some mildly painful sounding suggestions about where the man could take a bullet, Sameen dropped her coffee cup onto the isle in the kitchen with a growl.

The silence lengthened as Parisa and the others stood there staring at Sameen while Sameen glared at the coffee cup as though it’s existence had personally offended her.

“So,” Parisa paused, waiting to see if her daughter would look up at her words. She didn’t. “He a friend of yours?”

Sameen looked as though she were trying to light the coffee cup on fire using only her mind. “No.”

“Well, that’s what you said about this Root yesterday, and the Detective seems to have a different opinion about that.”

Sameen finally looked up, fixing her mother with a glare she was more than familiar with from Sameen’s teenage years. “John doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Parisa raised an eyebrow, mirroring her daughter’s expression from earlier. “He seemed to think he does.”

“I don’t _do_ friends.” Parisa snorted quietly.

That she certainly remembered.

All throughout Sameen’s childhood, she didn’t think that Sameen ever had what would conventionally be called friendships or friends. Despite Parisa’s insistence that Sameen try and go out to get to know kids her own age – even going so far as going to her sister Anahita’s house three or four times a week to try and convince Dani and Sameen to become friends – it seemed to be a personal goal of her daughters to be perpetually alone.

“Alright.” If there was another thing Parisa remembered from when Sameen was a child, it was when to back down and let _her_ define things. “Well, you’re certainly not enemies, so what would you say this John Riley and Root are to you?”

Sameen held her mother’s stare for a long moment before looking away. “Work colleagues.”

“You seem to get along rather well for work colleagues.”

Sameen shrugged, her face giving nothing away. “We spend a lot of time working.”

“You and John, or you and this Root?” Sameen’s glare returned full force to Parisa as the older woman pried farther.

“We all work together.” Parisa nodded, taking the cue to stop prying; when Sameen started speaking in short, clipped sentences, it was usually a good indication that farther prying would do nothing but earn glares and silence from her.

“How many people actually work with you?” Jack spoke up from behind Parisa, sounding as angry as always.

“Enough.”

“How many is _enough_?”

“Enough to get the job done.”

Parisa wondered when Jack was going to get the hint and drop the subject. It was fairly clear that Sameen wasn’t going to be answering any questions about her personal or work life – at least, not at the moment. Parisa was intent on learning about her daughter’s life since the Marines, but she was willing to put aside her curiosity for a time when perhaps Sameen would be more receptive to such questions.

Jack grit his teeth, clearly reaching the end of his patience. Frankly, Parisa was surprised it took this long – the man wasn’t known for his abundance of patience.

“That’s not a real answer.” Sameen shrugged again, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“It’s the one you’re gonna get.”

Jack took a step forward. “I suggest you rethink that response.” Parisa raised one eyebrow; she recognized that tone. He’d used that tone frequently on Dani and Sameen when they were children, typically when he thought they were lying to him – which was pretty much always. Parisa would often be the person to step forward and prevent any escalation, and she prepared to do so then.

However, Sameen stepped forward first.

“And _I_,” Sameen dropped her arms, “ suggest that you don’t threaten me.”

Jack let out a disbelieving laugh, “What are you going to do, throw a coaster at me?”

“No,” Sameen spoke with an almost conversational tone as she tilted her head to the side, “I’d probably just shoot you.”

That seemed to take Jack by surprise, his mocking smile freezing on his face. “You’d kill your own uncle?”

“I never said I’d _kill_ you.” Her gaze never left Jack’s.

All throughout Sameen’s childhood, Parisa had heard parents and other children talking about Sameen, saying they were afraid of her, that they felt uncomfortable around her. Every time, she wrote it off, thinking that, yes, Sameen was different, she wasn’t as expressive or social as the other kids, but that didn’t mean she’d hurt them.

Looking at Sameen now, as she stared calmly at Jack, a small almost feline smile on her face that didn’t reach her eyes, Parisa felt a small tremor run through her body, and understood.

Beside her, Parisa felt Anahita tense, and behind her she could feel Dani shifting as though getting ready for a fight.

Sameen remained as calm and relaxed as when she had first entered the room.

Suddenly, her eyes unfocused, drifting to the side as her head turned slightly towards the right, like she had heard something. Her brow furrowed for a moment as she listened intently to something that only she could hear.

Just as quickly, she refocused on the other inhabitants of the room.

“Get down.” She spoke the words so calmly, so matter of fact – so differently from the cool, sadistic threat – that Parisa hadn’t quite registered what it was that Sameen had actually said until it was too late.

By then, the bullets had already started to fly.

**

“You’d kill your own uncle?” Shaw heard the disbelieving laughter in her uncles’ voice as he took another step towards her, and she could feel the anticipation of a fight building in her muscles.

She allowed the smallest of smiles to grace her features. “I never said I’d _kill_ you.”

She saw her uncle falter at that, clearly taken by surprise at the calmness with which she’d delivered the threat; it was a look she was _intimately_ familiar with, since it usually crossed the faces pretty much everyone she threatened.

“_Ms. Shaw?_” Her earwig crackled to life as Finch’s voice filtered through the static, the slight tone of panic being the only reason she stopped to listen. “_You need to get out of the apartment now_.” Her brow furrowed as she listened. “_Apparently the safe house isn’t as safe as I had originally hoped. There are armed gunman approaching the house as we speak._”

Behind Finch’s voice, she could just make out the tone of Reese’s as he said something to Finch. Before she could ask, Harold began talking again. “_Scratch that, they’re already there. You need to get everyone to safety. Now._”

She didn’t bother to respond to Finch, instead focusing on the somewhat frightened faces in the room.

“Get down.” She just had time to see the fright turn to confusion before the first spray of bullets tore through the room.

The glass from the windows shattered, and as she ducked behind the kitchen island; she saw her uncle throw himself behind a chair, and Dani grabbed both her and Shaw’s mothers by the arms as she dragged them behind the couch.

Shaw reached into her coat pocket and drew out her 9mm, silencer already equipped. Once the hail of bullets stopped, leaving a silence thicker than the tension which had previously filled the room, Shaw – with her gun held high – crept from her hiding place as she made her way towards the window, peering quietly over the jagged pieces of broken glass to try and spot what she could only assume was a sniper.

“Reese?”

“_Yes, Shaw?_”

“I think the sniper is on the building across the way. Fifteenth story, third window from the left. I don’t know what kind of heat he’s packing, but whatever it is ripped through glass, leather, and stuffing like it was nothing.”

“_Got it._” And the line went dead.

The room was silent; Shaw trying to be as still as possible so as not to attract the attention of the sniper while simultaneously trying to listen for more gunmen – in her experience, snipers rarely worked alone, and Finch had told her that there were gunmen on their way. With Reese dealing with the sniper, Root God-only-knows-where and Fusco probably tagging along with Reese, that left just her to defend the apartment itself if it was breached.

The others were probably in shock (whether it be from bullet wounds and blood loss or fright she didn’t know or, at the moment, particularly care) or just stunned into silence. Either way, Shaw wasn’t complaining.

She could hear the wind blowing gently through the windows, whistling briefly as it brushed against the glass’ jagged edges, the cars honking hundreds of feet below as they passed by with no knowledge of the gunfight about to go down right above their heads, and the footsteps that were quickly making their way towards the front door of the apartment.

Thinking quickly, Shaw flipped one of the armchairs over to create a sort of barricade between herself and the door, before checking that the magazine of her gun was full and getting ready for a fight. A smile crept its way onto her face.

There was a moment of silence as the footsteps briefly stopped, before they made their way _away _from the door much more rapidly than they had approached it.

Shaw didn’t have a whole lot of time to consider why that might be before the entire wall exploded inward.

For half a second, she couldn’t hear anything over the ringing of her ears following the explosion, but her body moved on instinct as she peered over the edge of the chair and saw the shadows of five people moving through the debris and smoke.

Drawing her gun up, she fired two shots into the smoke, and faintly heard the sound of two bodies collapsing on the floor – much more clearly hearing their screams of pain as the bullets tore through their kneecaps, rendering them incapacitated.

Another rain of bullets screamed through the air, causing Shaw to quickly duck back behind the overturned chair, but not before she felt a bullet slam into her shoulder, nearly causing her to drop the weapon and sending a torpedo of pain through her arm and part of her torso.

“Son of a bitch!”

As silence once again fell over the room, Shaw grit her teeth through the pain, before quickly twisting around and firing three more shots, hearing two more bodies drop to the floor. However, these bodies dropped much more heavily than the others, and didn’t make any noise as they did, so Shaw figured she had hit a little higher then she’d meant to – at least that’s what she was going to tell Finch when he inevitably asked.

_Four down_.

She sat in silence, back to the chair, gun in her lap, blood running down her arm, vision obscured by the sheer amount of smoke and debris filling the room, waiting for some indication as to where the fifth party might be.

She heard high-pitch whistling, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor behind her.

“_You couldn’t have saved more than one of them for me?_” Shaw twisted around, glaring out the window towards the sniper’s former post.

“Next time move a little faster and you’ll get to shoot more of them.”

She heard Reese’s faint chuckle over the line, before Finch broke in. “_Is everyone alright, Ms. Shaw?_”

Shaw winced a she pushed herself up, feeling the bullet that was lodged in her shoulder shift slightly at the movement. “Fine. Anyone hurt?” Shaw directed her last question towards the other occupants of the room.

She watched as Dani warily stood up, covered in debris and dust, from behind the couch. After a moment, she saw her mother and aunt make their ways up as well.

All three looked somewhat in shock and from where she was standing, Shaw could see that her mother and aunt were shaking.

None of them looked injured though, so Shaw decided to deal with the rest of it later.

“Jack?” Slowly, Jack Reese pushed himself up from behind the chair he’d taken cover behind, looking almost as shocked and stunned as Dani, but not nearly as bad as Parisa and Anahita.

He also looked relatively unhurt, although all three were covered in the typical cuts and scratches that come from being within eight feet of an explosion.

“We’re fine, Finch.”

“_I’ve got a car on the side street_.” John sounded as though he were making his way down a metal staircase, so Shaw could only assume he was making his way to the car from the other building. Hopefully with the gun that the sniper was using.

“We’ll meet you there.”

**

As Jack Reese sat in the back of a black Suburban probably going at least twenty miles over the speed limit, being driven by a man he had met not even three hours prior, with his daughter, wife, sister-in-law and niece that – before yesterday – he hadn’t seen in over fifteen years riding shot gun (with what appeared to be an _actual_ shotgun in her lap), he started to wonder exactly what he had gotten himself into.

“Hey, Reese.” Instinctively, he looked towards the passenger seat at the sound of Sameen’s voice, automatically assuming she was speaking to him, and out of the corner of his eye, he could Dani doing the same. However, before either he or Dani could answer, the man driving the car looked over.

“What?”

“You got any med kits in this car?” The man did a double take at Sameen, before once again turning his attention to the road.

Without a word, he gestured to the glove compartment in front of her seat. “You know, Shaw, I thought we’ve gone over this. Getting shot does not constitute as _fine_.”

Sameen snorted as Jack watched her pull off her coat, revealing the sleeveless tank top underneath. Instantly, the metallic smell of blood hit him as she tossed her coat onto the small table between the two front seats while simultaneous pulling a small black bag out of the glove compartment.

Beside him, Jack could hear Parisa and Anahita gasp as they notice for the first time the trails of blood making their down Sameen’s arm from her shoulder, nearly dripping off her hand.

“I’m not _dying_.”

In the rear-view mirror, Jack saw the man raise an eyebrow. “Not dying isn’t exactly a great measure of fine.”

“It is if you’re not a wuss,” Sameen muttered as she picked up a small pair of medical tweezers from the bag. “And you wanna try driving a little better?”

“You wanna try waiting for me to stop before performing surgery on yourself?”

“Where would the fun in that be?”

“I feel like you and I have very different ideas of _fun_.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Jack felt like his head was spinning. Between the remaining affects of the explosion, the overwhelming smell of blood, and the bad driving, he felt about ten seconds away from losing his non-existent breakfast.

“Where exactly are we going?” Sameen glanced casually over at the driver as she spoke, acting as though she spends _all _her weekends pulling bullets from her shoulder in the passenger seat of a moving car. Which honestly she could, at this point Jack wouldn’t even be surprised.

“Is there a safe house nearby? Shaw’s hurt and we should probably get off the road.” Since the man clearly wasn’t talking to Sameen, Jack could only assume that whoever Sameen had been talking with earlier on… whatever Bluetooth device she was using (although he couldn’t actually _see_ any evidence of a device) was answering.

“What do you mean?” The driver sounded confused as he made a turn.

There was more silence as the person on the other end of the call answered.

“So what do you want me to do?”

Another bought of silence, broken only by a faint hiss from Sameen as she managed to pull a bullet from her shoulder with the tweezers, and a faint gagging sound from Anahita as she watched.

“Are you sure?” The man sounded uncertain with whatever instructions had just been relayed. Sameen just furrowed her brows and focused more intently on her wound.

The man pursed his lips, brows drawn low over his eyes as Jack watched them narrow. “If you’re sure, Finch.”

With that, the man cut a tight left turn, sending Dani into the car door, and everyone else in the back into Dani. Unsurprisingly, it appeared as though Sameen was used to the man’s style of driving and managed to prevent herself from careening into the door.

“Where the hell are we going?” The man glanced in the rear-view mirror at Jack, his gaze almost as unreadable as Sameen’s.

“Chinatown.”

**

“Where exactly are we going?” John briefly glanced over at Shaw as she started to dig the bullet from her shoulder, wincing slightly. He knew from experience that trying to dig a bullet from his own shoulder without any form of anesthetic hurt like hell, and he could only imagine what it felt like while in a moving vehicle.

“Is there a safe house nearby? Shaw’s hurt and we should probably get off the road.” As he spoke, John glanced into the driver side mirror, where he could just barely see the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles as they screamed to a stop in front of the building Shaw and the others had just vacated.

There was a pause from the other side of the line. “_I’m not sure that a safe house would be sufficient to protect these numbers._”

“What do you mean?” Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Shaw pause; the only indication that she was listening to the conversation.

“_I’ve been trying to find the reason that we received these numbers, and have yet to find any substantial reason for their being in danger. The only reason I can find is that they have a connection with Ms. Shaw. Considering her status with most government agencies is officially deceased, if she is the reason their numbers came up, then presumably whoever means to do them harm has concrete knowledge of what it is that she does, and by proxy, what it is we do. Not to mention that they have already proved to have knowledge of at least one safe house._”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“_I suppose the only viable option would be to bring them to the subway._”

John’s eyebrows furrowed, coming together as Shaw’s head snapped towards him, eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

“_As loath as I am to admit it, Mr. Reese, I’m not sure we have much of a choice. Until I figure out exactly how the safe house was breached, we have to assume that every safe house in the city has been compromised. And I’m not comfortable with you simply wandering the streets, especially with Ms. Shaw injured._”

John narrowed his eyes, letting out a slow breath. “If you’re sure, Finch.” He cut a sharp turn, heading down the familiar streets.

“Where the hell are we going?” Jack sounded a strange mix between angry and ill.

Glancing back in the rear-view mirror, John tried to keep the uncertainty out of his voice as he bit out a single word.

“Chinatown.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is!   
I'm not 100% happy with it, probably only about 95%, but I'm never happy with, like, anything I write.  
That being said, I do think it's pretty good, and I really hope you guys do as well.  
As always comments and kudos are appreciated!!  
Enjoy!

Shaw pressed another bandage to her wound, wrapping some cloth around it to hold it in place as the car pulled into an alleyway about two blocks from the subway station. Her arm was starting to throb as blood seeped through yet another makeshift dressing.

Holding the cloth in place with her left hand, she pushed the car door open with her right, wincing as the movement jostled the injury.

“You doing alright, Shaw?” She looked sideways at Reese as he stood watching her from around the hood of the car.

“Peachy.”

She watched as John helped her mother and aunt out of the car; Dani and Jack were mostly over their initial shock at this point.

Jack glared at them, his gaze switching between John and herself. “So is anyone going to actually _tell_ me where we are?”

“No.” Shaw pushed her way past her uncle and onto the busy street, taking the jacket the John was holding out for her and pulling it around her shoulders to hide the injury.

Not that she necessarily needed it. After all, the five of them have had their home base here for a few years now. They’ve all come and gone in varying states of tired, bloody, half dead, and unconscious and they have yet for anyone to actually question them about it. At this point, Shaw sort of felt that the people were just kind of expecting it.

She looked behind her briefly to see Jack, her mother, aunt and Dani all following, with John bringing up the rear.

She weaved her way down the sidewalk, between people, vendors, and various decorations, until she came to the small doorway which led down into the abandoned subway tunnel.

Ducking inside, she moved quickly and silently (although with the small herd of elephants behind her, she supposed that real silence wasn’t going to be an option) towards the vending machine which hid their hideaway.

Once she reached it, she stopped, waiting for the others to catch up. When they did, Shaw chose to watch behind them in case some random person finally decided to follow them, having had enough of the random people who show up and disappear down an abandoned tunnel for hours on end. The other’s all chose to watch with varying degrees of interest, surprise and just plain confusion as John pressed the code into the vending machines keypad before it swung open, revealing the tunnel.

Pushing past her stock-still family members, Shaw made her way down the tunnel, John only following once he was sure everyone else was as well.

As she pushed through the gate into the open room, she saw Finch stand up, a worried look on his face as he caught sight of the blood making its way down her arm as she threw the jacket into a nearby corner.

Bear too, who was seated on his dog bed by the entry to the old subway car, jumped to his feet with a whine and walked over to her, pacing around her worriedly – which didn’t exactly make getting to the medical supplies easy.

“What the hell is this place?”

Shaw nodded thankfully at Harold as the older man handed her one of the _many_ bags of medical supplies in an effort to make her life easier, and chose to ignore Dani’s question, letting John or Harold answer it for her.

**

“What the hell is this place?” Dani tried to keep the impatience out of her voice, but frankly she thought that she was entitled to some answers. It wasn’t even noon and she had already been shot at, almost killed in an explosion, shoved into a car – which she was pretty sure nearly got into, like, four car accidents – and finally dragged down a weird hallway, through a secret door and into a cavern filled with an empty subway car, almost a dozen computer monitors, the man who had been the beginning of her life’s latest disaster, and his dog.

Sameen didn’t even look up from where she was seated on a bench, slowly pealing the blood-soaked bandages from her shoulder.

Dani couldn’t help but look away when she started threading a needle.

She could look at dead murder victims all day if she had too, but watching someone stitch up their own bullet wound? That was going too far, even for her.

Instead she focused on the two other occupants of the room – Harold Finch and the other man.

Harold limped forward. “I must apologize for the location; I wasn’t sure how many of the safe houses in the city have been compromised, so I instructed Mr. Reese,” He gestured to the man formerly known as John Riley, “to bring you here.”

Dani gestured vaguely around her, “And where exactly is _here_?”

The man looked uncomfortable. “Well, that is a rather complicated question.” Dani resisted the urge to strangle the man.

Was anything _not_ complicated with these people?

“You see, this is where we work from – your cousin, Ms. Reese, myself and a… few others.”

“I think I need to sit down,” Anahita spoke up for the first time since she’d been dragged behind that couch. Dani glanced over at her mother, who did indeed look about five seconds from collapsing onto the floor.

Harold looked rather worried at the prospect, and before he could say anything, John grabbed her by the arm and led her over a crate laying on the floor nearby.

“I must apologize for the appearance of the place. As I’m sure as you can imagine, we don’t get many guests. However, feel free to make yourself at home.” With that, he turned back towards the desk he had been sitting at when they first entered the room, before turning back around, “Oh, and please refrain from touching anything.”

He gave them a small smile as he turned away, towards John. “Mr. Reese, if you could show our guests where they will be staying for the time being, I would be much appreciative.”

John nodded, before gesturing to Dani and the others to follow him about ten feet to the left, where there was a small room built into the wall.

It wasn’t very big, probably about ten by ten feet, with a small cot pushed against one wall, a pink throw rug, and a lamp resting in the corner.

“It’s been used as a sort of safe house a couple of times,” was John’s only explanation for the décor. “Don’t worry, we’ll get more cots.”

He said it as though it were the only problem Dani and the others had with the whole situation.

Not the fact that they had flown across the country, been told they were in life threatening danger (but, God forbid they be told _why_), been shot at, and dragged into a secret underground lair that Dani was certain was not legal in slightest.

No, their biggest problem was that there weren’t enough _cots_ in said underground secret lair.

And Dani thought that the _last_ time she’d seen Sameen had been a whirlwind.

**

Three days.

Three days had passed since Parisa had had bullets fly past her head, seen her daughter shoot at people and get shot at in return, been dragged what felt like a hundred feet underground, shoved into a broom closet with her sister, niece, and brother-in-law with absolutely no explanation for any of it other than _it’s complicated_ and _trust me_.

To say she was beginning to get fed up with all of it was a _massive _understatement.

She jumped slightly as the dog, Bear, bumped into her leg, chew toy hanging from his mouth as he looked pleadingly up at her, tail wagging.

At least the dog was nice.

Parisa reached down, patted Bear on the head before gently taking the chew toy from him and tossing it across the room, not bothering to hide her small smile as he excitedly chased after it with an excited bark.

“Well, I’m glad someone is happy with this situation.” Parisa glanced up at her sister as Anahita took a seat on the bench beside her. She nodded towards the dog. “I for one, am starting to lose my patience.” She glanced in the direction of her husband and daughter, who were standing over near their room, glowering. “And I’m pretty sure Jack lost his the second this whole thing started.” She looked thoughtfully at her daughter. “Although Dani is taking everything surprising well. She’s usually right up there with her father when it comes to lack of patience.”

Parisa laughed quietly. “Well, they may not have much of anything in common, but they have that.” Anahita gave a wry smile, before both women turned their attention back to the dog, who was enthusiastically sniffing around a pile of boxes, trying to get to the chew toy which had fallen between several of the boxes and was therefore out of reach.

Parisa sighed, moving to retrieve the toy before Bear knocked the whole pile over, but before she could do much more than stand, he suddenly gave up all attempts for the toy with a bark and raced over to the gated doorway.

It was only then that Parisa heard the faint sound of heels on the concrete floor getting closer with every passing second.

Her brow furrowed; if she remembered correctly, Sameen was supposed to be out _checking a lead_ as Mr. Finch had put it, and wasn’t supposed to be back until later that night, and while she certainly wouldn’t _judge_ them for it, she figured that neither Mr. Reese nor Detective Fusco were the kind to wear stilettoes in their free time.

Glancing at Anahita beside her, she saw that her sister was at as much of a loss as to who the mystery person could be.

As the footsteps got even closer, Bear started making excited, whining sounds in the back of his throat – seeming to catch Mr. Finch’s attention for the first time as he too glanced up and towards the door – which ceased the moment that an unfamiliar woman came into view.

She was tall, probably about five ten or five eleven in the heels, wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, with long brown hair cascading down her shoulders and back.

When she pushed open the door, she was immediately assaulted by Bear as he jumped up trying his hardest to knock her over, presumably so he could say hello.

“_Af liggen_, Bear,” the woman laughed out as she stepped back to avoid falling. Instantly the dog dropped to all four feet, but continued to whine and pace around her – tail going a mile a minute – until she crouched down and gave him a thorough petting. 

From the corner of her eye, Parisa saw Mr. Finch rise from his seat with one of his small smiles, saying nothing as he watched the woman play with the dog.

Rising again, the woman flashed him a bright smile. “Hey, Harry.”

“Ms. Groves.” The man nodded at the woman. “I take it your mission was a success?”

She shrugged. “Well, no more a disaster than usual. Better than yours at any rate.” She looked around the room, eyeing first Parisa, then Anahita, followed by Jack, and finally Dani.

When she reached Dani however, rather than dismissing her like she had everyone else, she perked up, recognition sparking in her gaze.

“Well, if it isn’t the Shaw-look-alike.” She grinned at Dani, who rolled her eyes, “Long time no see, huh?”

For a moment, Parisa was confused, before she remembered what Dani had said about Sameen having a friend with her in L.A. months ago – someone she tried to introduce as Samantha, and who Sameen adamantly insisted was named Root.

Parisa wondered if this was that woman. The not-friend of Sameen’s.

The woman turned back to Mr. Finch. “Quite the crowd here, Harry.” She pouted in his direction, but her eyes were full of mirth as she spoke, “And here I was, thinking that after me you were done taking in strays.”

Mr. Finch simply shook his head exasperatedly. “We needed somewhere safe to keep them for the time being.”

“What, and your fifty-seven safe houses in Manhattan wouldn’t do it?”

“I’m afraid that, thanks to recent circumstances, we must assume that all the safe houses are compromised.” At the woman’s confused look, he clarified. “They were attacked in a safe house the morning after their arrival. It only stands to reason that it wasn’t a lucky guess on the attacker’s part.”

“Do we know who attacked the house?”

Parisa blinked, a little taken aback. In a heartbeat, the woman had gone from playfully smirking and joking around, to intensely serious.

Mr. Finch shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I’m still looking through the security footage to see if I can pinpoint any details that may identify our attackers.”

“What, they can’t tell us themselves? Did Fusco have a bad day in interrogation or something?” The woman cocked her head to the side, eyebrow raised.

“Sadly no; that would have made our job must easier. Unfortunately, Ms. Shaw was forced to kill two of them in the attack.” The man sounded disapproving, Parisa felt herself blanch – and heard Anahita gasp beside her. She hadn’t thought to ask about the welfare of their attackers, too preoccupied with their own current situation, but was beyond horrified to hear that they had been killed – by her own daughter no less.

“Mmm.” The woman sounded much less disapproving. “You said she killed _two_ of them, what about the rest?”

“That’s where things start to get strange.” Mr. Finch turned back to his computers, pulling up an online newspaper as the woman went to stand behind him.

From where she was sitting Parisa could just make out the headline: _Suspects in Home Robbery Die in Police Custody._

“Someone else got to them?” The woman sounded dubious.

“It appears that way. Someone who obviously didn’t want the police to learn something, and so got rid of their loose ends.”

“So what’s our working theory? Do we know why their numbers have come up?”

The man sighed, looking back at Parisa and the others. “I’ve been through their bank records, affairs, routines, the works, and the only thing that I can find that would put them in danger – other than their typical job dangers – would be their connection to Ms. Shaw.”

The woman raised her eyebrow at him. “Well, I find that highly unlikely. I mean don’t get me wrong, Shaw has plenty of enemies,” the man snorted his agreement, “but almost none of them even know her real name, much less have enough knowledge to find and target her family.”

Mr. Finch pressed his lips together. “How many enemies does she have who know her true identity?”

“Well,” the woman perched on the edge of the desk, leaning back on her hands, head tilted to the side as she thought, “there’s Control, but no one’s heard from her since the fall of you-know-what. There _was_ Greer, Lambert and Martine, but unless Shaw is being targeted by a vengeful ghost, I’m not sure how helpful that is.”

“Were there any other Decima agents who might have a grudge against Ms. Shaw?”

The woman’s eyebrows came together as she thought. “I’m not sure. I don’t know how… classified,” she glanced at Parisa and the others when she said this, her eyes unreadable, “it all was. The only agents that I know knew about the _project_,” the woman’s lips curled into a sneer as she spoke, her voice filling with some emotion; anger or something like it, “were Lambert, Martine and Greer.”

“Do you,” Mr. Finch paused for a moment, also glancing in their guest’s direction for a moment. He cleared his throat and began again, “Do you suppose you could inquire to Ms. Shaw if perhaps there was anyone else? Perhaps she may remember more.”

The woman glanced at Mr. Finch, her face thoughtful – although Parisa thought could detect a hint of worry and concern in her eyes, leaving the older woman wondering just what it was that the two were discussing. And what it had to do with her daughter.

Glancing at Anahita, she saw that her sister had noticed Mr. Finch’s and the woman’s odd behavior.

“I _could_,” the woman drew out the last word, “but I’m not sure how… _helpful_ Shaw would be at identifications.”

The man nodded, looking resigned, “I expected as much.”

The woman looked back at them with an unreadable expression. “So what, they’re just going to stay down here until we find out who’s behind this?”

“At the moment, it’s the only option we have.” The woman nodded slowly, before letting out a sigh and hopping off the bench.

Moving towards Parisa and Anahita, she dropped her serious expression, replacing it with a mischievous smile. “Well, since it sounds like we’re going to be spending some time together, I might as well introduce myself. Properly, this time.” She directed the last part towards Dani, who, along with Jack, had stepped up beside Anahita during the conversation.

She held her hand out towards Parisa, her smile only widening as Parisa hesitantly reached out to take it.

“You can call me Root.”

**

Honestly, Root wasn’t sure what she had expected from Shaw’s family.

When she’d met Dani months ago, she hadn’t been sure what to expect either, and had been greeted basically with a more emotionally available version of Shaw. Looking at Shaw’s mother, aunt, and uncle however, she thought that they were probably going to be a whole different story.

Dani looked torn between glaring at her, rolling her eyes in exasperation, pumping her for information, or strangling her. So basically, she looked exactly like Shaw.

Jack Reese was currently glaring at Root with about as much animosity as the terrorist she’d taken down earlier that week.

Shaw’s mother and aunt on the other hand, were watching her like she was some kind of puzzle to be figured out, which Root found actually quite unsettling.

Shaw’s mother took her hand slowly, “Parisa Shaw. This is my sister and brother-in-law, Jack and Anahita Reese. And I guess you know my niece, Dani.”

Root grinned at her, her gaze flickering towards Dani as she dropped her hand. “Oh, you could say we’re acquainted.”

“Mmm.” Parisa hummed as she too lowered her hand, but whereas Root’s arm fell to her side, Parisa crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m guessing you’re acquainted with my daughter, Sameen, as well.”

Root felt her grin waver slightly, unsure as to where exactly this conversation was going. “Well, we work together so...” She drew out the last word, trying to see any change in Parisa’s expression. “Yes.”

Parisa nodded, her gaze never wavering from Root’s.

“Right then.” Root went to turn away, to head back to Harold, but was stopped as Parisa spoke up once again.

“How did you two meet?”

Root froze, hesitating a moment before slowly turning back an expression of innocence on her face. “Well…” Root sort of trailed off, unsure of what to say, and caught too off guard to come up with a believable lie. Root sort of figured that _oh, we met when I posed as a contact before tasing, kidnapping, tying up, and threatening to torture her for information_ was probably not the way to go. “We actually met at work.”

She raised an eyebrow, “You met when Mr. Finch hired you?”

“I mean, not really. We actually met before that, when we were both working our previous jobs.”

Parisa looked confused. “You met in the army?”

Root didn’t know what to do with that.

“Um… yeah.” Root could instantly tell that Parisa didn’t believe her – and judging from the looks on the rest of the family’s faces, neither did they. Not that Root blamed them; she was the one telling the lie and she hardly believed it. “Something like that.”

She quickly turned away and heading back to Harold before any more questions could be asked.

When she reached him, Harry looked up, one eyebrow raised amusedly.

“You know, Ms. Groves. I’m not sure even I know how it is the two of you first became acquainted.”

Root felt her ears flush red as she pointedly ignored the question, instead choosing to focus on the lines of code and security footage running across the computer screens, and the whispering of the Machine in her ear.

Root sighed, leaning back in her chair she let out a yawn, her eyes drifting shut for the first time in hours.

She and Harold had been trying to figure out exactly _how_ someone could have gained the knowledge about the location of the safe house. Even if they assumed that whoever it was knew about Shaw’s occupation, there wasn’t anything directly tying her to the safe house locations, which means that they had to have tracked her there somehow.

Unfortunately, even after spending the better part of five hours scouring every inch of security footage to and from the safe house from that day and the days leading up to it, she had yet to find anything suspicious, and the Machine was being frustratingly silent on the matter.

Opening her eyes, she pushed away from the desk, rolling her chair a couple of feet away before idly spinning in circles.

“Come on, Harry, we’ve been looking for hours and keep coming up empty. Taking a few minutes to breathe won’t kill us. Or them,” was her only response to the pointed look from Harold, who only huffed and turned back to the computers.

Root rolled her eyes with a slight grin, being reaching up and flicking on the com in her ear.

“Hey, Sweetie.”

“_God, Root, can’t you go even a day without calling me?”_ Root felt a grin take over her whole face as her eyes drifted shut again, leaning back in the chair as it slowly spun to a stop.

“What, and miss hearing the soothing sound of your voice?” Root’s was full of teasing as she spoke, and with her eyes closed she could see Shaw’s exaggerated eyeroll behind her closed eyelids.

“_Don’t you have something – anything – better to do?_”

“Then talk to you? Never.” Behind her she heard Harold let out a sigh as he listened in on her side of the conversation.

“_What about taking out terrorists or something._”

“Nope.” Root popped the p, “Wrapped that up this morning. Now I’m home – safe and sound,” she added before Shaw could ask, “and I’m just sitting down here, next to Harry, counting down the minutes until I can see you.”

Root heard a small pause from over the coms, the only sound that of Shaw’s heels on concrete as she walked. Beside her, she felt Bear jump to his feet, and her eyes drifted open just as Shaw came into view.

Root grinned, reaching up and flicking off her com as she reclined in the chair, and watched as Shaw pushed open the gate and made her way into the chamber.

She paused a moment to give Bear a proper greeting, before nodding at Harry and ultimately ignoring Root, who pouted. “You know, someone might think you didn’t miss me at all.”

“’Cause I didn’t.” Shaw didn’t even glance in Root’s direction as she talked, instead choosing to head over to her many crates and grab a medical bag from between some of the guns.

Her brow furrowed as Shaw then turned and started making her way towards Root.

“I told you, I’m fine.”

Shaw simply blinked at her. “And you think I’m gonna trust _you_?”

Root rolled her eyes, pushing the chair in another lazy circle as she spread out her arms. “Four limbs, ten fingers, ten toes. All body parts here and accounted for; I don’t even have holes in any of them.” The chair jerked to a stop as Sameen caught the arm in her hand, forcing Root to face her. “Which, might I add, is more than I can say for _you_.”

Shaw narrowed her eyes, and Root simply tilted her head to the side knowingly. “Come on, Sameen. You didn’t think She’d tell me?”

Shaw pursed her lips, still glaring down at Root, who decided that then was the best time to stand up. Of course, this caused her to end up inches away from Shaw, their noses practically touching as Shaw steadfastly refused to back up.

“You seem to forget, Sweetie,” Root leaned closer, tilting her head to the side and leaning forward so that her lips just barely grazed the shell of Sameen’s ear. “She tells me everything.”

Root watched as Shaw’s jaw tightened at her close proximity, and Root grinned – wide and open – as Shaw stared straight ahead, pretending in vain not be affected.

Reaching down, Root plucked the medical bag from Shaw’s frozen hand. At the same moment, she pressed a quick kiss to the other woman’s cheek before twirling away with a laugh, leaving Shaw standing frozen in the middle of the room, Harold shaking his head in the background, the smallest of smiles on his face.

**

_That was… _

Parisa wasn’t even sure how to finish the thought as she watched Root twirl away from her daughter with an airy laugh, who was standing frozen in the middle of the room, face expressionless as she stared blankly ahead.

_… interesting_.

Yeah, that worked.

She watched as Shaw blinked, shook her head, and – while glaring after Root as the woman headed back over to Mr. Finch – started over towards the subway car, and consequentially, Parisa.

“So, that’s Root.” Sameen switched her glare to her mother as she approached.

“Yeah, that’s Root.” Parisa eyed her daughter for a moment, before narrowing her eyes slightly.

“She seems… interesting.” Sameen pursed her lips, pushing past her mother and heading into the subway car.

Parisa only waited a few seconds before following, everyone else on her heels.

When they entered, Sameen was seated at a bench, with a gun resting in her hands as she methodically pulled it apart, cleaned, and inspected it.

She barely glanced up as Parisa took a seat across from her daughter.

“You and Root seem… close.”

Sameen snorted as she reached for a bottle of gun cleaner. Parisa raised an eyebrow at her daughter, who seemed not at all inclined on answering.

After a few moments of silence, where Parisa simply stared at her daughter – telepathically letting her know that she wasn’t going to just drop the subject – Sameen let out a sigh.

“We work together.”

“And…” Parisa let herself trail off, looking expectantly at Sameen, who dropped the magazine she was holding onto the table and glared at her.

“And nothing. We work together, she likes to annoy me, end of story.”

“It doesn’t seem like the whole story to me.” Parisa held her tone steady as Sameen’s glare intensified.

“Well, it is.”

“That’s not what you said in L.A.” Parisa glanced over her shoulder towards Dani, slightly shocked both at her niece’s interruption and at her words. Across the car, Parisa saw her daughter tense minutely.

She frowned at Dani. “What do you mean?”

Dani raised an eyebrow at Sameen, who in turn glared at Dani. “Are you going to tell them? Or should I?”

Parisa glanced between the two women. “Tell us what?”

“I mean come on, it can’t _possibly _be some big secret or something.” Dani gave Sameen a look.

The tension in the room was thick as Sameen continued to glare at her cousin, neither one saying a word, until with a sigh Dani took the stage.

“Last time we met, in L.A., I asked Sameen how she could just… cut us out of her life like it was no big deal,” Dani began, her voice calm, as though the words she was saying didn’t hurt.

Parisa flinched slightly at the reminder of those fifteen years – fifteen years of waiting and hoping for a letter or phone call, of praying and worrying about her, wondering if she was okay or even still alive. Of fifteen years of silence, empty chairs at holidays, and fading memories.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and, without looking, knew that it was Anahita.

“Normally I wouldn’t have asked, but I saw how Sameen acted with that woman. So I wanted to know.” Parisa watched her daughter as, with a small shake of her head, she went back to cleaning her gun.

“And what was the answer?” Glancing up at her sister, Parisa noticed that Anahita wasn’t looking at Dani, or even really addressing the question to her, but rather to Sameen.

Sameen didn’t even glance up from her weapon as she answered. “It’s complicated.”

Parisa felt Anahita’s hand tighten on her shoulder, and heard Jack mutter something under his breath, but before either of them could say anything, she beat them too it.

“Is that the excuse you have for everything? It’s complicated?” Parisa finally lost her patience.

Sameen glanced up, eyes tinted with either frustration or anger, maybe both, but Parisa wasn’t backing down. “I have asked hundreds of questions these past several days, and the only answer I’ve heard is ‘its complicated’, and I’ve accepted that, as frustrating as it is. But right now, about this? I think I deserve – I think _we_ deserve – something a little more concrete then _it’s complicated_.”

Parisa held Sameen’s gaze as the room sat in silence, both woman staring each other down and neither one backing away, until finally Sameen looked back at the weapon in her lap.

Parisa grit her teeth, resisting the urge to yell as Sameen calmly started reassembling her weapon in silence, meticulously replacing each and every piece with a care that Parisa couldn’t understand.

Hours could have passed in the silence that overtook the room.

Eventually, Parisa had had enough, and she stood up, prepared to leave, when Sameen finally spoke up.

“It’s not an excuse.” Parisa stopped. “It _is _complicated, and honestly, I have no idea how to explain it, ‘cause frankly, half the time _I_ don’t understand it.”

Parisa turned around.

She wasn’t sure what to expect when her daughter started talking – this was a conversation she’d imagined having for fifteen years, nearly since the day Sameen was supposed to call and Parisa had sat by the phone for nearly five hours, just waiting for it to ring. Except it never did, and it didn’t the next week, or the next, or the one after that. For fifteen years, every time the phone rang a small part of her would get excited thinking _maybe_ it would be her, but it never was. She’d imagined that maybe Sameen would be embarrassed or ashamed, or at least unable to meet her mother’s gaze.

She expected Sameen to be _sorry_. Sorry for all the stress and grief and worry she’d put her mother through.

Instead, when she turned around Sameen was staring at her with her typical neutral expression, eyes unreadable, voice monotone.

“So try.”

**

Shaw stared at her mother, unsure of what to say, of where to begin. So she goes with the obvious. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“Something.” Her mother sounded half-desperate, on the verge of tears. “_Anything_.”

Shaw stared unblinkingly at her mother, who stared right back – probably the only person in the world other than Root who could hold Shaw’s gaze.

“I mean,” It appeared as though Shaw wouldn’t have to talk though, considering her mother just kept going, “you disappear for _fifteen _years without a word, and we come back into your life and all you have to say is _hey_. And this… this Root walks in after a _week _and you’re all worried.” Shaw bit back her customary denial that she was not, in fact, _worried_ about Root (she wasn’t, no matter what Finch, or Reese, or Fusco, or hell, even Zoe Morgan had to say about it). “And I just… I just want to know why.” Her mother’s voice broke as she closed her eyes, pausing to take a deep breath before continuing.

“I just want to know why you never seemed to care about us – about _me_.”

Shaw held her mother’s gaze for a heartbeat. Then two more, the silence in the room growing with every passing minute, until it was so loud Shaw wasn’t sure she could hear anything over it.

She wasn’t sure what to say; her default answer, the one right on the tip of her tongue, probably wasn’t one that her mother wanted to hear. While Shaw didn’t typically care about whether or not her words hurt people’s feelings, she understood that these people could be staying in the headquarters for a while, and the last thing she wanted was to feel this level of tension every time she stepped into the subway.

“Excuse me.” Everyone in the room turned towards the doorway to the subway car, where Root was awkwardly leaning halfway into the door frame, a half smile which didn’t quite reach her eyes on her face. “Sorry to interrupt… whatever’s going on here, but I really need to borrow Sameen.”

Shaw locked eyes with Root, and frowned at the conflicting emotions in her eyes – almost instantly forgetting the conversation she’d just been having.

“Sure, what’s going on?” She stood, tucking her gun into her waistband and reaching for her coat.

“Nothing serious.” The look in Root’s eyes told a different story, “I just need a cup of coffee and wanted some company.”

Shaw frowned; clearly there was more going on here than Root was letting on, but she wasn’t exactly sure _what_ so instead she nodded, and allowed Root to take her by the arm, pulling her from the subway car.

“Root what’s going on?” She was starting to get fed up with Root’s behavior.

Ever since they left the subway, Root had been acting squirrelly – evading questions, giving noncommittal answers, glancing at Shaw whenever she thought Shaw wouldn’t notice and then looking quickly away when she realized she’d been caught.

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t acting all that different from usual, but while this sort of behavior typically annoyed Shaw to no end, this time there was something about it that was setting her on edge.

“Does this have something to do with what you and Finch were researching on the computers? About the threat?” Root gave no answer other than a tight-lipped smile as she came to a halt in front of a rundown bar, gesturing for Shaw to go inside.

“Root, for the last time, what is going on,” Shaw practically growled as she slid into a booth near the back of the nearly empty room. “And before you give me some bullshit answer, if I don’t hear a real one, I’m going to walk out of here.”

Root wisely chose to say nothing right away, instead sliding into the seat across from Shaw in silence.

She placed her hands on the table, black nails tapping against the cheap wood as she took her lower lip between her teeth, not meeting Shaw’s gaze.

Just when Shaw thought she was going to have to either actually get up and leave (which she didn’t particularly want to do, since that would mean either going back to the station where her family was probably imagining her very slow death or heading to her apartment where she would spend the rest of the night wondering exactly what it was Root had to say to her that had her acting so weird) or strangle the woman across from her, Root pulled her phone from her pocket and thumbed it open.

“To answer your question… yes, Harry and I think we did find a possible threat.”

Shaw frowned. Root wasn’t meeting her eyes, instead focusing her gaze on the table where moments ago her nails had been tapping.

“Okay, that’s good, right?” Shaw was confused. Root was normally insufferable when she figured out the threats, “What are we waiting for? Let’s go take these guys out.” Shaw made to stand, but was stopped by Root’s hand on hers .

“Wait, Sameen. Just… wait.” Root sounded… odd, her voice full of some emotion Shaw couldn’t identify.

“What the hell is going on, Root?” Shaw heard the frustration boil over in her tone as she sat back down. “Usually, you’re the first person out the door when we discover the threat, so what’s with all the hesitation and secrecy? The last time you were this twitchy was when my cover was blown with Samaritan.”

Shaw saw the flash of pain in Root’s eyes, and she knew she had crossed a line, broken the unspoken agreement among the team about mentioning those days, that time, but Shaw was confused and frustrated and tired of having the family she didn’t particularly want to talk to living in the same space where she spent most of her days.

“I know, and usually you’d be right there with me, it’s one of the reasons I love you.” Root shook her head, withdrawing her hand to run it through her hair. “God, I didn’t even want to _tell_ you, but Harry thought you had a right to know.”

“A right to know _what_, Root?”

Root opened her mouth for a moment, before closing it. She closed her eyes with a shake of her head, her bottom lip between her teeth again. Eventually she said nothing, simply opening her eyes and passing the phone to Shaw across the table.

Shaw didn’t even hesitate before picking it up, glancing down at the unlocked screen.

On it was what appeared to be a personnel file.

With one last glance at Root, Shaw began to read.

**

“What the hell is this?”

Harold glanced up from his computer screen as a cellphone was unceremoniously dumped in front of it.

Looking to his right, he saw the very angry expression of none other than Sameen Shaw staring down at him, Root standing behind her, eyes worried and apologetic.

Clearing his throat, he turned his chair around enough to face her without straining his neck. “I take it Ms. Groves has shown you our discovery.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” Shaw practically spit in his face as she glared down at him, “you could say that.”

“What’s going on here, Finch?” John approached, Detective Fusco only steps behind him.

Harold turned to face his other associates. “Ms. Groves and I believe that we have found the threat to the numbers.”

Lionel looked between Harold and Shaw, a confused expression on his face. “Then why does Mayhem Twin number two look so unhappy? Isn’t the promise of violence the only reason she gets out of bed or something?”

Harold winced slightly as Shaw shot the Detective an intense glare. “Unfortunately, Detective, I’m afraid that isn’t the case this time.”

John frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he came up beside Harold. “So what’s the threat, Finch?”

“One with which I’m afraid Ms. Shaw won’t be the only unhappy party.”

“See, Harry and I spent the last couple of hours scouring security footage from around the safe house, on and up to the day of the attack, looking for anything that might give us a clue as to who was behind it – and hopefully who was the reason that we received the numbers.” Root stepped forward from around Shaw, who – still glowering – moved farther away, clearly deciding that she had received all necessary information at the moment as she pulled a gun from… somewhere… and started to pull it methodically apart.

“Eventually, She managed to identify a single person who had been seen around the apartment building multiple times, always in the same spot or the same amount of time.” No one needed to ask exactly who _She _was. “Unfortunately, the name She gave me was an alias, which Harry and I managed to trace, leading us to a last known residence and… well, here.” She reached around Harold, moving the keyboard towards her as she hit a few keys, and the scanned personnel file which Harold had found with her took over his screen once again.

“Oh shit,” Detective Fusco breathed from behind him, John swearing quietly under his breath as well when they read the highlighted words at the top of the page:

** _Decima Technologies _ **

** _Confidential Employee Record Name: Adrian Clandwell_ **

**

Spending the past couple of days with Sameen and her… work colleagues had taught Dani three things. One, it was really frustrating to never know what was going on, and two, she would probably _never_ know what was going on – but she wanted to, nonetheless – and three, most of the time, things weren’t exactly what she thought they were.

Ever since Sameen and Root had returned from their twenty minute coffee run – from which they returned with _no_ coffee – and they had finished having their little private chat near the computers, during which Dani was really quite worried that Sameen was going to punch Mr. Finch, the tension levels in the subway had skyrocketed to an all-time high.

John and Detective Fusco – who had appeared, perhaps ten minutes after the departure of the two women – were standing around Mr. Finch as the older man typed away at his computer, none of them looking anywhere close to happy.

Sameen had stormed away towards the pile of crates and trunks, and was currently seated atop one, glaring into space while fiddling with a Barrett M82 sniper rifle which was _definitely _not legal. Root hovered almost worriedly around her while trying to make it look as though she wasn’t.

She had tried getting close enough to overhear their conversation earlier, but she only managed to catch a few words here and there, none of which were helpful in actually giving her the information she wanted to know.

The only thing she knew was that it had something to do with the threat against her and her family, that no one was happy about it – although judging from reactions that she saw, Sameen seemed the most unhappy of the group – and that whoever it was seemed to be some sort of ghost.

She also knew that whatever this threat was, it had everybody on high alert.

“What do you suppose is going on?” Dani turned her head towards her mother as she stepped forward, coming up alongside her daughter.

For a moment, the two women watched as the two detectives and Root grabbed a couple of handguns from one of the crates, before going to stand behind Finch. Uncharacteristically, when Sameen went to move as well, Finch laid a hand on her arm, telling her something Dani couldn’t hear. Sameen made to argue, when Root took her hand and said something, causing her cousin to glare at the whole group before reluctantly nodding and grabbing the dog leash Finch was holding out for her.

Within seconds, she was out the door, dog at her side, with Root gazing after her, an expression of worry across her face.

Dani had a lot of talents, sadly, super hearing was not one of them. However, she was rather good at reading lips, and while she didn’t know what everyone was saying, she could pretty clearly make out what it was that Root had told Sameen.

_Go home_.

“I don’t know.” Dani turned her attention back to the various groups of people. “But whatever it is, it’s _not_ good.”

**

“So how’re we gonna get this son of a bitch?” John looked sideways at Lionel, who wasn’t at all paying attention to what Finch was doing on the computer, choosing instead to rifle through some of the loose papers spread over the desk.

“Well, first, Lionel, we have to find him.” Fusco shot John a half-hearted glare at the man’s patronizing tone.

“No duh, Wonder Boy, but _after _Glasses here tracks him down, what are we gonna do about him?”

“Presumably, Detective, you’d arrest him,” Finch spoke up from between them, not bothering to glance up from his computer.

“Well, geez, what is it, point out the obvious day?” John hid a smile at his friend’s tone. “I _know_ that.”

“Then why, Detective, are you asking?” 

John watched as Fusco shifted uncomfortably for a second or two, before clearing his throat. “I mean, I know that’s what we normally do, but I thought, since you know…” He sort of trailed off uncertainly.

“No, Detective, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“I don’t know, what with this guy and Jr. Cocoa Puffs,” from the corner of his eye, John saw Root flinch slightly at the reminder, “I just thought, you know, maybe we’d do something… more.” John raised an eyebrow at his friend.

“You know, Lionel, that sounds like something a corrupt cop would say.”

Fusco shot him a glare. “I’m not saying we take the guy to a back alley and execute him. I just think that after everything, he deserves a bit more than being thrown in prison or a couple to the kneecaps.”

Finch sighed from where he sat, before pushing back slightly and looking up at the Detective. “While I understand where you are coming from, Detective, need I remind you that we help the innocent, not condemn the guilty.”

John smirked slightly as Fusco grumbled under his breath, shifting on his feet again, looking all the part of a child being reprimanded by their dad.

“Well, Lionel, I do have to say I agree with Finch here.” Fusco looked up in surprise at John, clearly having expected that his partner was going to have his back, before John continued, “That being said, we already know how most Decima agents act, so I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume that this guy’s not going to go easily.”

Fusco grinned at him over Finch’s head, while the older man looked between his two friends; the cop on one side smiling widely, and the ex-CIA agent on the other with a knowing smirk.

**

Root pulled her sunglasses from her eyes as Fusco parked in front of the apartment building.

“Well, I gotta say, it _feels_ like some place an ex-government lacky would be spending his time.” Despite the situation, she couldn’t help the smile that twitched onto her face at Lionel’s words.

The building was probably ten stories tall – short for New York – and in one of the crappiest parts of the city. Half the windows were falling out or already broken, the brick was crumbling, and what little paint had ever been on the building had long since peeled away, leaving behind oddly colored streaks marring the surface.

“Seriously, why can’t these people ever stay in a two story town house or something.”

John shot Lionel a look. “People don’t like going to their neighbors for dinner and finding grenades or military grade firearms under the couch.”

Fusco rolled his eyes as he drew his gun. “Why do I feel like you’re speaking from experience?”

“I’m a man of mystery, Lionel.” John’s small smile dropped from his face as turned back to the building. “What’s our plan here?”

Root tilted her head, gazing thoughtfully up at the structure for a moment.

Reaching behind her, she drew two guns from her waistband and clicked the safety’s off with a smirk.

“Why don’t we just knock, and see who answers?”

**

“_Finch_.” Harold blinked as Root’s voice interrupted the silence he’d found himself in since his companions departure.

“Ms. Groves, is everything-”

“_Definitely _not_ fine, Finch_.” Dimly, Harold heard the sound of gunfire through the coms, causing the older man to sit up straighter.

“What’s going on?”

“_We uh,_” she broke off as a loud popping sound echoed down the line, indicating she’d fired her gun, “_may have encountered a bit more resistance than I had hoped._”

Harold drew his eyebrows together. “Are you in need of assistance? I can call Ms. Sh-”

“_No,_” Root firmly interrupted_, _“_Shaw doesn’t need to be anywhere near here; we can handle ourselves. We might be in need of medical help when we get back to the subway though. John took some fire before we found cover._”

Harold closed his eyes briefly, tamping down his worry. “I’ll let her know.”

“_Thanks, Harry._” Another interlude of gunfire. “_I’ve got to go, see you soon._”

With that, the communication cut off.

Letting out a slow breath, Harold reached over and pressed a key on his keyboard, opening up the channel between his com and his other associate.

“Ms. Shaw? I believe your assistance is required in subway.”

**

The subway had been quiet for only about two hours before all hell broke loose.

One minute, Parisa was flipping through one of the many boring books that Mr. Finch had supplied for his captives – sorry, _guests_ – entertainment, and the next, she was helping Root half drag a semiconscious and bleeding John to a bench.

She stumbled back slightly as her daughter shoved her, rather violently, out of the way.

Sameen had reappeared in the subway minutes before the arrival of the rest of the group, and judging from how she had immediately started preparing medical supplies, Parisa guessed that she had been told exactly _why_ she was needed.

“Damn it, Root, what the hell happened?” Sameen glared at John’s injuries as she pulled on a pair of gloves and started cutting his shirt away, using what appeared to be a military knife.

“There were a couple more hired gun’s then we had been expecting.” Root took the bloody clothing that Sameen thrust her way and, after looking blankly at it for a moment, dropped it on the floor at the foot of the bench. “And by that, I mean that there were hired guns.”

Sameen took a moment to glare at the woman, “Are you telling me you didn’t case the place _before_ going inside?” Root bit her lip, glancing away from Sameen’s intense glare. “Jesus, Root. How many times have I told you, don’t just fucking waltz into a place.”

“Well, I mean, to be fair-” Detective Fusco cut in, clearly trying to defuse the situation.

“No.” Parisa nearly gagged as she watched Sameen dig the bullet from John’s shoulder, before dropping it into a glass she’d placed nearby. “You _never_ look before you do something, Root.”

Parisa frowned at her daughter’s agitated tone. Despite the amount of blood on John’s shirt, after a more thorough inspection, the injury didn’t actually appear to be that bad. Sure the man had lost a bit of blood, but the injury was in a nonvital spot, which made it easy to clean and fix up.

Sameen however, was acting as though John had been shot in the chest and the bullet had barely missed his heart.

Parisa took a moment to look at her daughter nonbleeding friends; Root had frozen, staring at Sameen with a look of hurt at her harsh tone, while Fusco looked somewhat stunned by her outburst, his eyebrows raised and mouth partially open.

“Sameen, I-” Root started, and Parisa instinctively winced at the confused pain in the other woman’s voice.

Sameen however, wasn’t finished. “You don’t _think_, you just act, even if it means getting yourself or someone else hurt, or dead.” She finished stitching up the injury, taping down the bandage before pushing herself to her feet, turning to face her companions for the first time since they’d entered the room. “And _I’m_ always the one that winds up pulling out the bullets and cleaning up _your _mess.” Sameen violently pushed a finger into Root’s chest, causing the other woman to stumble back slightly.

Without another word, Sameen shoved past the stunned woman, disappearing through the gate and back up the stairs leading towards the surface.

Parisa blinked in shock as a stunned silence fell over the small group. After a few moments, Detective Fusco reached out, paying a hand on Root’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Cocoa Puffs, I’m sure she’ll calm down in a few minutes. Or hours,’ he added as an after-thought.

The woman nodded, still gazing after Sameen with an expression that to Parisa seemed to be a mixture between worry and hurt.

**

It was only a few hours before Sameen reappeared in the subway, still looking angry, although Parisa couldn’t tell if that was because she was _still _angry, or if that’s the way that Sameen always looked these days.

She watched from a distance as her daughter approached the other woman slowly, and as the two had a conversation ending with Root giving Sameen a small half smile and a short one-sided hug.

Parisa wasn’t particularly shocked by her daughter’s choice to apologize for her outburst – she wasn’t blind, and as painful as it was to admit, she could see that, somehow, that woman and these men meant something to Sameen.

It was obvious that somehow, Sameen cared about them in a way Parisa wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her daughter care about anything.

Not even her.

**

Jack was sick and tired of everything.

The furtive glances between everyone, covert conversations that ended as soon as he or a member of his family got too close.

But most of all, he was sick of being in the dark, of not knowing what was going on or who was where or how damn long it was going to take for these whack-jobs to get their shit together and do what they were supposed to.

It had been three days since the last “attempt” to take down whatever threat was trying to get at Jack and his family.

Three days since the so-called-professionals had come back bleeding with their tails tucked between their legs.

Three days of them sitting around the abandoned subway station twiddling their thumbs and staring at computer screens like they were awaiting instruction from God.

Currently, Finch was once again seated at his computer, typing away, the two “detectives” standing behind him as if they were going to telepathically receive orders from the computer. Sameen was sitting on a crate, fiddling with some gun or another, glaring into space while the other annoying woman was sitting at her feet.

All in all, it looked like one of the worst operations he’d ever seen.

He felt his wife step up beside him, also looking out at the groups, her brow furrowed. “What do you think is going on?”

“Hell if I know.” Jack uncrossed his arms, raising his chin. “But I’m about to find out.”

Ignoring the quiet protests from Anahita, Jack moved swiftly towards his niece.

**

Root kept glancing over at Shaw worriedly. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for – she felt like Shaw should have _some _reaction, after all it had been days since she’d learned that one of the members of a group she _thought_ had been destroyed, that had kidnapped and psychologically tortured her for nearly a year, was alive and well and coming after her family.

Not to mention since her friends had almost been killed by said individual.

However, with the exception of the fight the other day, Shaw was being… well, Shaw. Silent, moody, grumpy, and not at all interested in sharing her feelings – whatever small, seemingly insignificant ones she may have at the moment.

But Root knew how to deal with Shaw, so instead of doing what she was sure Harold would and push Shaw to talk, she just sat near her, letting her do her own thing and watching for any signs of distress.

For a little while, things had been going well, Shaw choosing to ignore Root’s presence – which was better than actively trying to shove her away – and instead brood in peace.

Then Jack showed up, and Root had the feeling that sooner or later, she would be the only thing coming between the man and Shaw’s M82.

But Jack didn’t say anything when he reached them – instead he just stood there, arms hanging at his sides as he glared daggers at Shaw, waiting for the other woman to look at him, and also ignoring Root.

Apparently, Dani wasn’t the only relative Shaw had similarities too.

Eventually, Shaw seemed to get annoyed with Jack’s incessant staring.

“What?” Shaw practically growled, her gaze never wavering from the M82 in her hands.

“We need to talk.” Jack’s voice was almost as cold as Shaw’s.

“I’m pretty sure we don’t have that much to say to one another.”

“Well how about you start with what the hell is going on?” For the first time, Shaw looked up at her uncle, her glare focusing on the person standing next to her, but saying nothing.

Root jumped in, Jack’s icy glare refocusing on her as Shaw’s stayed where it was. “We found the threat against you guys. That’s all. Harry and the boys are just figuring out the best way to handle it after last time’s… fiasco.”

“So what are you two doing?”

Root shrugged, “Sameen’s cleaning her arsenal, and I’m working on some code for Harry.” She lifted the laptop from her lap to show Jack, who didn’t look all that impressed.

“I meant what are you doing about the threat?”

Root cleared her throat awkwardly. “Well, at the moment, nothing.”

“Nothing?” Shaw’s uncle sounded incredulous. “What do you mean you’re doing _nothing_? I though the whole point of this thing was that you do _something._”

**

Ever since seeing the words _Decima Technologies_ on top of the document that was supposed to be the latest threat, Shaw felt like her whole world had tilted sideways.

In an instant, she doubted everything she’d seen, done, heard, _lived_ since Samaritan’s fall, and with the recent resurfacing of memories from the facility in which she was held, it left her feeling off-kilter, like at any moment Jeremey Lambert would come waltzing out from behind a corner, laughing, right before everything went dark and the whole thing started over.

And now, with Jack practically whining in her ear – once again – about how annoying it was that he didn’t _have the whole story_ or about how _no one’s doing anything_ like _he _was the most important person in the goddamn world, and _his_ problems are the most relevant, Shaw snapped.

“We _have _done something.” Despite the turmoil and anger she felt boiling over inside, her voice was calm, deadly, as her eyes remained locked onto her cousin. Beyond Jack, she could see her mother, aunt, and cousin making their way towards them, and she could almost _feel_ Root tensing behind her, but she didn’t care. “Maybe you don’t remember this, but I saved your life.”

Jack scoffed. “Only after you put it in danger in the first place.”

“_I _put your life danger?” Coming from anyone else, the words would have sounded incredulous, but from Shaw, they were angry, voice filled with rage as she stood, the M82 still held in her hands.

“We weren’t in danger until we got to New York. Until we met up with _you_.”

Shaw felt her jaw tighten as the anger rolled, hot and heavy, through her veins.

Behind her, she heard Root stand.

“Maybe now isn’t the time for this conversation.” Root sounded awkward, uncomfortable with being caught in the middle of the fight.

“No, Root.” Shaw tilted her head at her cousin. “I think now is a great time. And I think Jack,” she saw her mother flinch slightly as she spit her uncles name, “has a few more things he’d like to say.”

He blinked, clearly surprised by the tone Shaw took as she spoke; she could tell that Root, however, knew that meant it was probably _not_ a good idea to keep going.

“Actually, I do.” Everyone blinked, turning to face Shaw’s aunt as the woman stepped forward, her eyes full of anger, shock, and pain. “You know, when Dani said you showed up, all those months ago, I thought maybe, _just maybe_, I’d get some answers. That maybe this was the miracle I’d been praying for since the day your _mother_ showed up at my door in tears.

“But no. You’re not glad to see us. You’re not anything. You don’t even bother to give us an _excuse. _Instead, you just give some crap about not knowing ‘what it is we want’. Which by the way, is bullshit. You know _exactly_ what it is that we’re looking for. You’re just not willing to give it to us.” Anahita gestured around the room – towards the boys, who were watching with varying degrees of worry (Finch), intrigue (Fusco) and faux disinterest (Reese). “And you know something? Three day’s ago, I would have just accepted that, because I’ve watched you for nearly you’re life and not _once _have you ever given a damn about anyone, and I would have just accepted that for what it is. But I’ve been watching you, these past couple of days, and guess what? You joke around with _everyone _in this room. You smile with _everyone _in this room. You actually talk with _everyone _in this room. You _care_ about _everyone_ in this room. Everyone but _us_, your own _family_.

“And what do we get after fifteen years of total radio silence? _Hey_. That’s it. Not a ‘how are you’, or even an ‘I’m sorry for totally ghosting and letting you think I was dead’. And then what, you think, oh, I saved your life so I guess we must be even, huh?” Anahita’s face was contorted in anger as she practically spit the words at Shaw, who in turn stared back with a neutral face, not a muscle twitching, her eyes cold and emotionless. “Well, aren’t you gonna say something?”

Shaw blinked slowly at her aunt, nothing about her body language giving away the crippling anger tightening within her. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, her eyes never drifting away from her cousin’s. 

She simply nodded, putting the M82 on the crate next to her, before turning back to the furious woman in front of her. “I never asked you to be here. I never asked you to come looking for me. I never _wanted_ you to come looking for me. But you did, and it put you in danger – which is what I told your daughter ten months ago.

“I saved your life, because it was the _job_. Not because I wanted to or felt some _obligation_ to. And if you wanna leave, I’m not gonna stop you. But don’t expect me to be there the next time the bullets start to fly.” Her voice was cold, detached. Shaw watched as the anger and confusion drained away from her aunt’s face, replaced by disbelief as Shaw’s final words.

“’Cause next time? I won’t be.”

**

Parisa Shaw stared in shock as her daughter simply turned and walked away, the room filled with silence broken only as the metal gate at the entry way slammed shut behind Sameen’s retreating figure.

Anahita looked shocked, clearly not having expected such a reaction from her niece, Dani and Jack staring dumbly after Sameen.

“You know, I’m starting to realize why none of you people have families.” Parisa blinked a couple of times before turning her attention to Detective Fusco, who was shaking his head.

Mr. Finch shot the man a look before awkwardly clearing his throat, stepping forward as everyone’s attention belatedly turned to him. “I must apologize for Ms. Shaw; she has… a lot on her mind at the moment.”

“Umm, yeah.” Root smiled apologetically at Parisa and the others before turning towards. “I’m gonna…” She trailed off, gesturing vaguely in the direction Sameen had taken.

Mr. Finch nodded, his eyes full of sympathy, which frankly, Parisa thought rather odd. “Of course, Ms. Groves.”

Root gave Parisa another tight-lipped smile before grabbing her jacket. She made her way partly to the door before pausing, turning back towards Harold, gesturing towards Bear. “Do you mind if I borrow him?”

Mr. Finch shook his head by way of response, and Root let out a whistle, the dog immediately jumping to his feet, leash in his mouth, before running over to the woman and allowing her to clip it to his collar.

Within seconds, they were gone, slipping away after Sameen.

There was several more seconds of silence as the two groups merely looked at one another as the sound of Root’s heels and Bear’s claws tapping at the cement faded into the background.

Once the sound had faded in its entirety, Mr. Finch looked up at the group, his face one of unrelenting seriousness as he spoke. “While I can understand your frustration with the current situation, I must remind you, that you are not the only people feeling overwhelmed with everything that has happened in the last couple of days.”

Beside her, Anahita opened her mouth to speak, but Mr. Finch cut her off with a wave of his hand. “I cannot and will not give you the answers you are looking for Mrs. Reese. This situation is tricky, and particularly… personal for some us as well.” Parisa had a feeling he wasn’t referring to himself as he spoke. “I understand that your family has some unfinished business in regard to Ms. Shaw, and while your niece’s methods may seem… unorthodox to some, I can assure you that she has reasons for them. They may not always be good reasons, at least not to us, but they are reasons nonetheless.”

“If she has reasons, why doesn’t she just give them to us?”

Mr. Finch smiled sadly at Anahita, letting out a breath. “Sometimes giving a reason, no matter how good or bad it is, is worse than just walking away.”

Her sister scoffed. “So you’re saying she’s a coward?”

“Quite the contrary. And if that’s what you think of your niece, then I’m not sure you know her at all.” With that, Mr. Finch turned back to his computers, Detective Fusco shaking his head and doing the same.

John, however, continued to watch the group for a heartbeat more; his gaze clouded, but his intention clear.

It wasn’t hard to read the warning in his stare.

Then he blinked, and turned back to Mr. Finch.

**

“Shaw? Sweetie?” Root gently pushed the door to Sameen’s apartment open. It was locked when she’d first arrived, but Shaw really should know by now: Root would break into a top-secret Decima facility with the faintest _hope_ of getting to Shaw; a locked door wasn’t going to do shit.

Bear nosed his way past her, padding softly into the apartment, a small whine building in his throat as he quietly approached the figure sitting cross legged on the black leather couch, jumping up beside her and flopping down with his head in her lap.

“Do you ever take a hint?” Shaw’s voice was calm – not cold or detached the way it was earlier, but not the usual… well, not warmth, not from Shaw, but familiarity, that Root’s become accustomed to.

Root sent a small smile her way as she closed the door behind her, leaning against it, knowing when to give Shaw her space. “Not really no.”

Shaw snorted, her hand coming up to rub Bear between the ears, “Yeah, I guess I should have seen that coming.”

“I guess you should have.” Root’s smile grew as the other woman shook her head in exasperation, though Root could tell it was mostly fake.

The two women sat – or in Root’s case, stood – in amicable silence for a few more moments, before Shaw sighed, looking up with unreadable eyes.

“What are you doing here, Root?”

Root’s smile dropped somewhat as she pushed away from the door, and made her way towards the couch where Shaw and Bear were resting, choosing to sit on the glass-topped coffee table across from the other woman, rather than take the chair.

Before Root, the apartment’s only furniture was a bed in the middle of the floor, a couple of cabinets, and some barely used appliances (unless she counted the fridge, which was used to store weapons, but she didn’t, since that hasn’t changed), but when she started spending more time there with Shaw, she’d made it her personal goal to make the place look less like a safe house, and more like the home that both she and Shaw deserved.

And staring at Shaw, cross legged on the couch they’d picked out together, knowing that despite the fact she could have gone _anywhere_, she’d chosen to come here, Root thought she had pretty well succeeded.

“Thought maybe I’d check up on you, see how you were doing.”

Shaw shrugged, her gaze never leaving Bear as he rolled over, so that he could look up at Shaw with one eye, tongue half hanging from his mouth. “’M fine, Root.”

“I think we both know, that whatever you are, _fine_ doesn’t cover it.” Shaw looked up at Root with a half-hearted glare.

“Yeah, and how do you know that?”

“Because _I’m_ not fine, so how can I expect you to be?”

“Hate to break it to you, Root, but you and I are hardly cut from the same stone.”

Root shrugged. “Maybe not, but we’re both human. And regardless of how many feelings or emotions we may or may not have, we’re not robots, Sam.” She tilted her head, waiting for Sameen to meet her gaze. “_You’re_ not a robot, and no amount of ignoring what feelings you _do_ have is gonna make you one.”

Silence stretched between them as they gazed at each other, Root smiling softly at the woman across from her. But unlike the tense, loud, awkward silences that had filled the subway station for the past several days, this one was calming, quiet, and, perhaps most importantly, filled with an understanding that can only pass between people who truly _get_ each other.

What could have been only heartbeats later, but felt like days, Shaw let out a huff shaking her head slightly as she looked back down at Bear, who looked seconds from falling asleep, one of her small and precious smiles coming to face.

“Can’t stop me from trying though.”

Root let out a laugh – a long, loud, uninhibited laugh. “No, and I’d never try. I’d only ask that you let me be there with you while you did it.”

**

Parisa let out a sigh as she sat down on the small cot in the small room that had been delegated theirs.

She was tired. Tired of sleeping in a cot. Tired of spending her days and nights worrying about her daughter. Tired of wondering what was going on.

Tired of never getting any answers.

While she didn’t necessarily agree with her niece’s methods, Parisa certainly understood her sentiment.

What she _didn’t_ understand was her daughter’s reaction.

Sameen was a lot of things. She was abrasive, rude, condescending, detached, and occasionally thoughtless. But if there was one thing Sameen _never _was, it was cruel. Even when other children, teachers, doctors and psychiatrists were throwing around words like _psycho_, _introverted_, and _antisocial_, Sameen never acted out, not like that.

She had always been that way; quiet, reserved, preferring solitude over the company of other children or even family – with the exception of her father. Around him, she was the child that Parisa knew she could be. She was inquisitive, never hesitating to ask a question or demand an answer, her rare smile came more easily to her features, and her shy laugh fell more frequently from her lips.

Parisa remembered the last time she had seen the two of them together – heading off to a football game, Sameen atop of her father’s shoulder’s as he made his way to the car, waving backwards towards the house where he knew his wife was watching.

Sameen had been so happy that day – or as happy as Parisa supposed Sameen ever was – excited to be going. She remembered the last moment before the car pulled out of the driveway, Sameen had twisted around in her seat to look back at the house once more, and when she saw her mother watching her from the kitchen window, she’d smiled. Not a big one or a wide one or a toothy one, just a small one, before the car moved onto the road and out of sight.

After her father’s death, that Sameen just sort of faded away. She never cried about the accident – not when it happened, not in therapy, not at the funeral, not at the holidays when the house was quiet and dark without her father dancing around the kitchen, singing off-key to whatever horrible song was playing on the radio.

She didn’t have any friends – as she put it at fifteen, with the innocence that only a child could have, she didn’t have much use for them. Instead she threw herself into her schoolwork, fighting for good grades. In the few instances where she did get in trouble at school for fighting, it was never her fault; the other kid had started it by making fun of her skin, her attitude, her clothes. But Sameen learned her lesson, learned that hitting or punching was never the answer. She had taught Sameen that.

Or at least Parisa thought she had.

But as she sat in that tiny room, she couldn’t get the image of her daughter looking her in the eyes before writing her off, calmly informing Parisa that she couldn’t care less about what happened to her, and she couldn’t help wondering exactly _where_ it was that she went wrong.

Wondering how this woman she barely recognized grew out of that shy young girl who loved to watch football and climb trees and just sit and stare out the window and into the world beyond. 

**

“Excuse me.” Root looked up from the laptop perched on her lap to find Parisa Shaw standing feet away, watching her.

“Can I help you?” Root didn’t try to hide the confusion in her voice; since the fight between Dani and Shaw days earlier, the entire Shaw-Reese family had been closed off, choosing to ignore herself, Finch, their Reese, and even Fusco (although Root couldn’t blame them for that one; they all ignored Fusco from time to time). When they had to talk, usually on the matter of food or something like that, they chose to interact with Finch, and occasionally Reese.

However, neither of the aforementioned men were around; Reese was at ‘work’ with Fusco, and Finch had taken Bear for a walk, leaving Root alone in the subway for the time being. She had been expecting the time to pass quietly, with the Shaw-Reese’s ignoring her presence and allowing her to finish some of the work she’d pushed to the back burner to make time for the current predicament.

Parisa bit her lip as she wrung her hands together in front of her. She opened her mouth for a moment, before letting it slide shut without a sound passing through her lips. After another moment of silence, she finally spoke.

“I just…” she trailed off again, looking uncertainly around the room, her gaze lingering on the pile of crates pushed to the side. Taking another breath, she restarted. “I need to know something, and I feel like you’re the best person to ask.”

Root frowned, “I’m not sure what I could tell you that Harry couldn’t. He’s the one that really knows your case, I just came in-”

“No,” Parisa interrupted her, “it’s not about the case, or the threat, or anything like that.” The older woman hesitated again. “It’s about Sameen.”

Root blinked up at the older woman, “I’m not the person you should be asking.” She tried to keep her voice even, but from the slight reaction she saw from Parisa, she thought maybe some of the coldness had trickled into her voice.

“Well, I’m not sure who it is you _want_ me to ask.” Parisa gestured vaguely around the room, but where her words seemed antagonistic, her voice just seemed… sad. Broken. And suddenly, Root remembered that this woman had lost her daughter once before, and was afraid of losing her again.

And if anyone knew what losing Shaw was like, it was Root.

Root bit back her sarcastic response, taking a deep breath and making a motion towards the chair beside her. “I’m sorry, it’s just been…”

“Tense, lately.” Parisa nodded as she finished the thought. “And I’m sorry for that as well, but I’m sure you can understand where I’m coming from.” Her eyes bore pleadingly into Root’s own, desperate for the younger woman to understand.

Root sighed, closing her laptop and putting it onto the table in front of her, before turning to actually face the other woman. “And I do.” She paused, taking a moment to really think about her words. She wanted to help Parisa, give her some of the closure that Shaw hadn’t all those years ago, but she also didn’t want to violate the hard-earned trust from the woman she loved. “But with Shaw… you can’t push her for the answers that you want. You have to let her give them to you, on her own terms.”

Root thought back to the weeks and months after Shaw’s return from Samaritan – the nightmares, the disbelief and distrust, not in any of them, but in herself – in her senses, in her mind. Every night, Root would lie awake in what then qualified as Shaw’s apartment’s living room, listening for any signs of distress from the sleeping woman. She barely slept, barely ate, and nearly drove herself insane trying to keep herself from convincing, coercing, and even guilting Sameen into talking. Harry thought that she wasn’t doing enough, but if there was one thing that Root had learned about Sameen, it was that convincing the other woman to talk about what feelings she _did_ have was a lot like trying to approach a wild animal (in Root’s mind Shaw was always some sort of cat, a puma maybe). If Root moved to quickly, she would lash out before retreating even farther away, both emotionally and physically.

So instead of moving, Root learned to sit still, to stay silent, and, eventually, Shaw would come to her.

After a while, Shaw started to seek out Root before heading back to her apartment, always asking if Root would be stopping by. She always made a big deal about how annoyed she was that Root had suddenly decided that the concept of locks suddenly didn’t apply to her, but Root could always see the slight release of tension in the other woman’s shoulder at her affirmative answer.

After a while, whenever Shaw had a nightmare, or a flashback, or a moment of doubt, she stopped shutting down. Instead, she would go to Root. Sometimes she would just shove Root’s feet from the end of the couch, stating her desire to watch television despite the late hour, or she would throw herself down onto whatever surface was nearest to Root while she was coding, pulling out whatever gun she had on her and cleaning it.

After a while, she started to talk, to share. She would talk about the torture, the simulations, the feeling of helplessness that came with never knowing what was real and what wasn’t. About there being only one thing in all of the simulations and reality that she could really rely on, that she truly trusted.

After a while, she admitted that that thing, was Root.

Parisa nodded somewhat sadly, her gaze fixed to the wall across from where the two women were seated, but Root had a feeling she wasn’t really seeing the cracked cement and faded paint.

“Somehow I think if… after fifteen years she’s not willing to give an answer… she never will.” Root wasn’t quite sure how to respond, nor was she sure that Parisa was looking for an answer, so she just stayed silent.

“Is she-” Parisa broke off, her voice catching. She took a shaky breath, letting it out slowly. “Is she… happy?”

Root smiled softly, her gaze still fixated on something in the distance, though what, she wasn’t quite sure. “I like to think so.”

Parisa turned to face Root suddenly, her eyes sad, but her face serious as she contemplated the other woman. “All my life, I have wanted nothing but the best for her – even those years when I thought she had to be gone, a part of me always hoped I was wrong. I just need to know if-”

Root cut her off, laying a hand across Parisa’s own, a small, sad smile on her lips. “Sameen is… different. Not necessarily in a bad way, just different.” Root nodded, more to herself than to Parisa. “We all are, in our own ways. And I know that you might think that _this_,” Root gestured around the room, to the computers and crates and guns, “isn’t the _best_, but for Sameen? This is where she’s meant to be.” Root smiled ruefully, “This is where we’re all meant to be.”

Parisa nodded slowly, not needing to ask who ‘we’ were.

“It may not be ideal, and we may come out the other side a little more battered – a little more broken – but we _always_ come out together. And in the end, we’re okay.”

Parisa took another shaky breath, her eyes glistening as she blinked.

Silence encompassed the pair as Parisa looked at Root, who tried to look anywhere but at the woman next to her.

“You’re wrong about one thing.” Root glanced up at the other woman, expecting a fight, and instead felt confused when she saw the small smile playing on Parisa’s lips despite the sadness in her gaze. “I may not agree with all of this, and I may not agree with all of her decisions, but I agree with one.” Parisa placed her other hand on top of Root’s, “I’m glad she has you. ”

Looking down at her hand, trapped between both of Parisa’s, Root felt a small, genuine smile grace her features. “So am I.”

**

After a five-day search, Harold finally managed to get an exact location on Adrian Clandwell, sending the Detective and John to deal with it, Root choosing to stay behind, helping to man the computers.

Dani hadn’t seen or heard from Sameen since the fight days ago.

She’d seen Root, usually bouncing into the lair midmorning and spending her time with Finch behind a computer. A couple of times she’d seen her go with the two boys to… wherever they go.

It was almost like it had been all those years ago when Sameen dropped off the face of the planet with not even a post-it note, and she knew that her mother and aunt were feeling it too. Ever since Sameen stormed away, Parisa’s face had been drawn, and her aunt wasn’t much better, both older women carrying around this air of raw grief that Dani had seen years ago.

“We got him.” Dani looked up, so lost in thought she hadn’t seen or heard Root approaching. The woman had a small smile on her face as she looked at the L.A. cop.

“Adrian Clandwell, the threat. We got him.”

Jack stepped forward. “So that means…”

“You’re not in danger anymore. Well,” the woman cocked an eyebrow, “not from him anyway.”

Dani nodded, sort of shocked. It had been a week and a half since their arrival in New York, and they had been in constant danger for most of it; she felt like it was sort of… anticlimactic that after all of that, it took two people less than twenty minutes to end the whole thing.

“So…” Parisa sounded just about as stunned by the news, “what does that mean?”

Finch stepped forward. “My suggestion? Go back to L.A.”

“Go back?” Parisa shook off her shock, her voice incredulous. “We came here looking for Sameen and-”

“Nearly died because of it,” Root interrupted. She smiled somewhat sadly at the small group. “I know what you wanted, and I know that you didn’t get the answers you were looking for, but trust me – they’re not worth dying for.”

“But…” Parisa trailed off, her face conflicted as she took in what the younger woman said.

“You spent so long thinking she was gone, and then you learned she was out there, alive – and you wanted to know. I get that.” And something in her voice told Dani that she really did. “And now you know. Everything else – the why’s, the how’s – all of that? It doesn’t matter. It never did. And it’s time to let it go, because if you don’t? She’s not gonna be the one who ends up dead because of it.”

Dani grit her teeth, glaring at the floor, not wanting to hear the logic in the other woman’s words, but unable to keep herself from doing so.

Parisa looked as though she wanted to argue, while Dani’s father appeared resigned.

Dani’s mother stepped forward, placing a hand on Parisa’s shoulder, looking as torn as her sister, and Parisa closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

She nodded. “You’re right.” She opened her eyes. “It’s time to go home.”

**

Root let out a sigh as she closed the front door behind her, palms pressing flat against the door as she leaned back against it. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the relative silence and calm from the apartment run over her, a welcome relief from the mess the rest of her life had become in the last week.

“What are you doing here?” Her eyes opened as Shaw’s voice reached her ears, the other woman’s voice a symphony of stealthily concealed curiosity and concern. She was standing a few feet in front of Root, arms crossed in front of her chest, “I thought you were supposed to be taking everyone to the airport.”

“I am. They’re just finishing getting everything packed up, so I offered to grab a car.”

Shaw raised an eyebrow. “Root, we don’t have a car here.”

“Well, I never said it was going to be _my_ car.” She grinned across the room at Shaw as the other woman gave her an eyeroll. “Also, I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to talk to you.”

“I’ll see you after you drop them off. Unless of course, you don’t plan on coming home.” Even after all that time together, Root couldn’t help the involuntary smile that crossed her face when the other woman called the apartment _home_.

“Of course I am, Sweetie.” She pouted playfully at Shaw. “Unless of course, you don’t want me.” She blinked balefully at her partner, while Shaw just gave her one of her small headshakes paired with an infamous eyeroll.

“Also,” Root pushed herself up, becoming more serious. “I wanted to see if, maybe, you wanted to come with me to the airport.”

Shaw’s gaze dropped slightly, her head turning slightly to the side; a tell that she was uncomfortable. “Root-”

“You don’t have to,” Root quickly cut in, “I’m not even asking, really. I just thought, maybe you would want the opportunity to know that it was an option.”

Shaw’s eyes flickered back to Root’s own, and she could have sworn she saw a small smile flicker across the other woman’s face. “Well thanks for letting me know, but I’m gonna stay here.”

Root nodded; she had thought that would be the answer. She smiled at Shaw, walking forward until she was standing at arms-length from her, reaching out and brushing some of the stray hair from Shaw’s face in a gesture that no other person on earth could get away with without at least being shot. “Okay.”

Smiling softly, Root leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Shaw’s temple, after which the other woman only slightly punched Root in the arm.

Root laughed quietly as she evaded Shaw’s second swipe, heading towards the door as she snagged one of her many jackets from the coat rack on her way out.

“Hey, Root?” She paused, halfway out the door, as Shaw spoke up, sounding unnaturally demure

Turning around, Root found Shaw holding out a hand, a folded piece of paper lying on her palm.

Shaw wouldn’t quite meet her eyes as he gestured slightly with it, “Could you… ya know…,” she sort of trailed off.

Root simply nodded, not needing Shaw to finish her sentence to understand what it was she wanted. She reached out and grasped Shaw’s hand for a second, giving it a small squeeze before pulling away, taking the paper with her and placing it in her pocket.

With one last look, Root was out the door, the soft sound of it closing behind her seeming to echo down the abandoned hallway.

**

“This is the last of them.” Root smiled shyly at Parisa, pulling the last of the suitcases from the back of the car – which Parisa was pretty sure was stolen, but after everything that had happened, she decided not to comment.

“Thanks.” Parisa met the woman’s smile as she closed the trunk.

She watched as Root stepped back, and smiled at the group. “Well, I gotta say, it’s been interesting meeting you.” She looked at Dani. “Try and stay out of trouble, ‘kay?”

Dani rolled her eyes with a grumble, grabbing the suitcase off the curb and making her way towards her mother and father who were gathering everything together outside the doors to J.F.K., leaving Parisa standing alone at the car with the younger woman.

“I know that it doesn’t really matter now, but… why?” Parisa stared at Root, who gazed confusedly at her.

“Why… what?”

Parisa opened her mouth before she realized that, she didn’t really know. “Just… why?” She gestured aimlessly around her, indicating, well, _everything_.

Root let out a short breath as she leaned back against the car’s passenger side door, a wry, teasing smile on her face. “Well, there’s certainly a lot of ambiguity in _that_ question.”

Parisa couldn’t help the small smile the other woman’s words brought to her face. It quickly fell away however, as she truly thought about what it was she wanted to know.

“I can’t tell you everything.” Her gaze flickered back to Root as she spoke.

“Can’t is the excuse that people use when they mean they don’t want to.”

Root let out a laugh at the older woman’s knowing tone. “Alright, so I _won’t_ tell you everything.” She shrugged, her voice apologetic. “There are just some things that aren’t for me to say.”

Parisa gave a slow nod.

Truth be told, she didn’t really know what she _wanted_ to know. Days ago, her answer would have been everything. But now, she wasn’t sure.

Did she really want to know why Sameen left all those years ago? Did she really want to know how she could do it? A part of her still said yes, but seeing everything she had – _hearing_ everything she had – the larger part of her wanted to let go. Maybe she didn’t get the answers, the closure, she had dreamed about, but after everything, she wasn’t sure she really wanted it after all. Maybe the why’s didn’t really matter after all.

She had spent fifteen years wondering and worrying and thinking and hypothesizing, and in her heart, Parisa knew it was time to move on.

Her gaze drifted from the New York skyline, and in the reflection of the car’s windows, she could see her family standing behind her.

“Why us?”

Root tilted her head to the side, face unreadable. “Why you… what?”

“This man, this… Adrian Clandwell. Why try and kill_ us_? I’ve never even heard of the man.”

Root nodded slowly, and Parisa could practically see her mulling over her words before she spoke. “He wasn’t trying to kill you because of anything you did,” Root started hesitantly, “more just because of who you _are_. More accurately, because you’re related to Shaw.”

“So this man and Shaw have a history?”

“You could say that.” Parisa raised an eyebrow at Root’s tone; where before it had been playful and light, now it was cold.

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” Parisa blinked at the other woman’s certainty. “And even if you did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Parisa simply nodded.

“What I can tell you, “ Parisa looked up at Root, whose gaze was fixed somewhere over Parisa’s shoulder, though the older woman had a feeling there was nothing there worth staring at, “is that he wanted revenge.”

“Revenge for what? What could have Sameen done to him?” As soon as she asked it, Parisa regretted the words; if she had learned anything in the last couple of days, it’s that Sameen could probably do a _lot_ of things that would warrant revenge.

Surprisingly, Root just met her gaze, her eyes filled with conflicting emotions – from guilt to sadness to anger. “Nothing.” She shrugged. “He didn’t want revenge for anything specific Sameen did, he just knew her name – her face – and that she had played a part.”

“She had played a part in… what?”

Her gaze flickered once again past Parisa’s head, fixing on something above it.

Twisting around, Parisa tried to see what it was that the younger woman was looking at, but saw nothing besides a lone security camera mounted on the building’s wall, the red light steadily blinking away.

When she’d turned back to Root, she was once again watching the older woman.

Root simply smiled a shy knowing smile. “Genesis.”

Parisa opened her mouth, before realizing that she really didn’t have anything to say.

The two women stood in silence, the lull in the conversation drifting over them as the silence grew.

“Well,” Root drew out the last syllable. “Guess this is goodbye, huh?”

Parisa nodded, “Guess it is.”

Root nodded for a moment, smiling one last time before she turned away.

“Oh, wait.” She turned back around, catching Parisa just before she did the same. “I forgot; I have something for you.”

Parisa started, not expecting that in the slightest. The woman reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small slip of paper, holding it out.

“I know she couldn’t be here, but she wanted me to give you this.” She gave Parisa another, softer smile as the older woman took the piece of paper from her hand, holding it in her own as Root turned around and made her way to the driver’s side door, stepped inside, and pulled away. 

Parisa watched the car drive away, until she couldn’t tell which one it was in the sea of traffic.

Looking down at the piece of paper in her hands, she slowly unfolded it, not really knowing what to expect, but as she read over the simple, lone line of ten digits, she smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, at the end of another massive project, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> As of right now, this is the end of this AU, but if you guys want to see anything more, just drop you're idea's in the comments, and I'll see what I can do.   
Also if you have any idea's at all, I'm always looking for more :)

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys think I need to add any more tags or something like that, please let me know!! Hope you enjoyed!


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